When Lightning Strikes Twice V2
by TopazSoarhire
Summary: Jin stubbled down the dark streets of Brisbane after the Iron Fist 3, dying despite the demon blood flowing through his veins. Three years later, he enters T4, but his belittled saviour wants to tag along to!
1. Jin Vs Shock

**When Lightning Strikes Twice**

**Part 1**

_Jin vs Shock_

The man staggered down the crooked backstreets of Brisbane, bumping from one side of the narrow road into the other. The darkness was a grey shroud wrought by a blinding headache and the strange lights drifting from over head. no matter how he strained his bloodshot eyes he couldn't avoid the debris abandoned around him. The frames of old couches stripped of their cushioning, the strange skeletal corpses of shopping trolleys lying on their sides with their bars contorted like broken teeth, doors of the warehouses leaning on broken hinges. He crashed into them over and over again sending his head spinning and chest aflame.

Infection, blood loss and exhaustion made him totter like a late night drunk going home to his wife.

_No home, no wife, no one, _he thought bitterly, gasping as tripped over a dinted garbage can. The garbage can landed on the ground with such a loud crash that he forgot the pain that burned in his chest and froze, listening to his instincts. The can rolled across the concrete with a _tatter,_ _tatter,_ _tatter_loud enough to wake the dead in the man's ears. His wound screamed at him, begging for rest. He couldn't these places existed everywhere and to rest without cover was to invite thieves and cutthroats to pick over his dying body, he knew that at least. What he didn't know was where he was and how he got there.

Listening for footsteps and trying to clear his light headedness, only the lonely howl of a dog echoed back.

He stumbled onwards. With his body beginning to cramp and his energy reserves depleted, he _needed_ to find shelter and warmth, even his strange genetic code could not keep him going forever. How long had it been? His large, calloused hands covered his wound protectively drawing his hooded cloak closer around him, and pushed on.

Deserted warehouses and old factories constructed of mildewy wood and rusting corrugated iron framed the streets just beyond the ocean. He could hear waves crashing on rocks a short distance away. He glanced around through drooping lids. Each building sulked in its spot, glaring at him through shattered pane windows from far above. He swallowed hard, feeling along the crumbling brick walls until he felt the material change under his fingers into splintering wood.

A well-mannered and respectful young man, he regretted what he was going to do next but he could keep staggering around in a daze. He needed sleep, he knew he hadn't had any since…. Well since… But it was gone and left a lethal present in its wake.

His fingers pored over the soggy wood.

_Rotten, _he thought with a surge of almost happy relief. In his full health the door would have exploded into matchsticks with one swift kick, now he doubted he could do anything with his whole body weight. A deep aching in his chest made his urgency deepen.

Kicking a tiny runway and kicking aside a cluster of coloured bottles he lumbered backwards and readied his shoulder for impact. Pausing only to wonder at the misfortune of his birth, he ran at the door. In three steps the distance was covered and he slammed into it with all the strength he had left in his weary body.

An ear splitting crack erupted in his ears and stars exploded in front of his eyes. The pain stabbed through his heart with a shrieking vengeance! It clouded his mind from all else! The doors burst apart with a drawn out groan, smashing back on their hinges.

Momentum was the only thing that carried him forward for all else was eclipsed by the all encompassing pain. Unaware of anything but, the pain enveloped him and he fell unconscious into a mound of crates, scattering them across the warehouse with a crash.

Akira awoke with her heart in her throat, scrambling backwards into a stack of wooden crates and throwing the tartan blanket over her head. Someone was inside! A second later more splintering rose from below as they blundered around, knocking stack after stack of crates like a domino effect, boom after boom jarred her body with a breathless sob.

She tugged the blanket tighter into her fist, bunching between whitened knuckles.

_Not again, _she prayed, little by little taking control of herself. Still curled into a ball she wiped away the tiny tears that had squeezed beneath her eyelids. _Please, I can't do it again!_

She waited, her breath still coming in and going out in halting gasps, as the echoes died away. Finally with her breathing normal and her heart no longer trying to escape through her throat, opened her blanket cacoon a sliver. There was no one in her small room built up with empty cases but that didn't mean anything. Her shelter against harsh city life was a loft, high in the roof of an empty warehouse. The ladder that had been used to reach it had rested, decaying against a wall when she first found it and now the only way up and down were spidery beams that crissed and crossed between the sturdy supporting ones.

Carefully, as silent as a cat, she crept from behind a wall and peered over a support rafter below.

Boxes smashed apart were sprawled around the opening.

Akira retreated back into the shadows of her 'room'. The noise was loud and worth some attention from neighbouring busybodies, the police for one. Although sympathetic towards the homeless, would force her to leave for being on government property. She couldn't, she wouldn't. It was the longest place she had ever stayed still since leaving, okay, _running away_, from home, three months. She regretted it, oh how she regretted it, but her pride wouldn't let her go back. She swore she would be rich and successful, and she would get there on her own.

Besides, her parents struggled as it was.

After a long time without any noise rising above the sloshing waves, she eased out again on her hands and knees. Her senses, which had become incredibly sensitive since coming to the city, strained to expose any threats from below.

She relaxed by inches. Her first fear was that the Fat Society was back. They were neither fat, nor a society but a group of five large, heavily pierced boys that got their kicks harassing the destitute. Torturing was a more accurate word, poor Morgan, an old aboriginal bloke who hadn't hurt anybody had his toes broken last time. She and a few of the others who lived around spared what they could for him to seek medical attention and he had since drifted away, as were many of the others.

She, despite being scared gutless of them, was defiant and refused to back down over anything, thus making her a favourite target. They didn't yet know where she spent her nights but they had once caught her on her way home, forced her to abandon her shoes and chased her down a street that was a favourite hideout for teenage boys such as themselves. She had come away lucky with a few nicks but forever scarred.

She scoured the room below, illuminated by the city's light pollution streaming through a hole in the roof where a corrugated iron sheet had come loose in a gale two months ago.

Closing her eyes and listening to her internal clock, she thought it was early morning, perhaps two or three o'clock. Many thought this to be the weakest time for the human body but for Akira she was awake without any lingering drowsiness.

Her gaze picked over the boxes but was drawn to the door, suspended by one hinge, swinging with creak, like a cat with a splinter in its paw. _Creeeeeek_Strange shadows fell through the threshold, blurry and insubstantial in the half light. Sweeping around the shadows to each of the corners and along the walls she looked for any movement. The rise and fall of a chest as it tried to suppress its breathing or the balmy breeze that whispered through every hole and crevice of this draughty building rustling their hair or cloths.

Finally Akira tried a more thorough investigation of the boxes. She didn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to hide among them. The moonlight would cast their shadow no matter where they hid. Then, lying on the outskirts of the crates, she saw a whispering cloak.

Cursing herself for not seeing it sooner, she slid her small body under a broken beam and shimmied down the corner, trying to hide herself amongst the shadow of the loft, and as quiet as the shadows themselves.

_Maybe_ _a drunk coming home and he stumbled in. _She climbed further down, but then stopped, hanging precociously from a four-meter drop to the floor. The door had been smashed on purpose _and_ she locked it from the inside! They were strong! She looked closer at the intruder hid. It was shiny, and soft, some material of fine weave. Definitely not your average drunk.

Chewing her lip as second, third and forth thoughts scurried through her head as she hung suspended from a thin spar. She flipped upside down, hooked her foot and pulled herself up again. Leaning against a supporting beam she flicked back her hair, an untidy mop of brownish black with a brown almond shaped eye peering between a bushy fringe.

The intruder groaned, a desperate, agonised sound.

Suddenly, a voice spoke to, no, through her. Time was running out. This person needed her.

But whether or not they needed her was only a second thought compared to what he might do if he didn't need it and was instead trying to lure her out.

Along with developing keen night sight and hearing, it had also honed natural wariness of people into finely honed suspicion that people were out to get her. She wasn't paranoid. No, not at all, she was just very, very alert!

He gurgled again, the leg splayed wide twitching.

_Ahh__ crap!_

With a grunt she snatched the spar, ignoring the tearing of the skin on her palms and swung down, dropping the last few meters to land awkwardly. Her ankles protested under the force but she stood and padded timidly towards the crate, looking as if she had been riding a horse for a week straight.

Stealing closer, she moved cautiously between the boxes, both of the intruder and debris piled around her. Wooden stakes and rusting nails scattered in front of her. When she was only a few meters away she stopped again. That paranoia she always made a note of ignoring spoke up again more loudly. Suspect everyone of everything, it insisted

Her intuition cried out over the top of it. _Help him, help him! Dying! Needed!_

At the word of dying Akira leap nimbly over a crate. Maybe she didn't like people but to leave him under there would be as bad damned heartless.

Then again, heartlessness did have it advantages.

The figure was heaped beneath the empty boxes, lying so still she was sure that during her hesitation the person had died, but her stubborn nature made her start shoving them frantically aside. As she pulled them away, more and more of the figure was revealed. Within minutes she saw all of him, for her intuition was right and it was it was male.

He was young, a well built body though shrouded beneath silky black cloak. Long delicate fingers were of some kind of Asian descent. Akira started to reach for the cowl still keeping his face in the shadows but a dark patch on his cloak deserved her imperative attention.

Akira pulled the coat open and saw a messy hole just to the right of his sternum. It was messy, pussing, infected for sure and congealed with dark blackish blood. Had she eaten that day she would have lost it again. She fought against the revulsion and tried to decide what to do.

It was a bullet hole, that was for sure, and with dread she realised it was above his heart.

She shoved herself away from the body and dry retches squeezed her stomach. If she had eaten it would have splashed over the cement. It sickened her. Someone had shot him with deadly intent. What had he done?

What to do? Call an ambulance. No, the nearest phone was in South Bank, and the Fat Society had ripped off the receiver and hurled it into the fountain for a laugh, from there she didn't know.

Okay, go to the shops and get help. Sunday night, only one shop was close enough, she could call there-

-and bring them to her hideout. They would ask questions and her compassion didn't extend so far to give up her home.

She sat, torn in two, her gaze swinging from the door to the man and back again.

_You know what you could do,_ a voice broached hesitantly. _You could do it yourself. Nothing big of course, just clean it up, get him to walk just far enough away not to arose suspicion and baddabing baddaboom. Home free._

"It's a bullet wound you twit!" she snarled at herself.

_Still, you were very good at biology. Remember those rats? And the rabbit? Mrs Donahue thought they were excellent._

With heavy and guilty sigh, she gave in. She had just settled here, she had work, shelter, regular enough food…. She couldn't give it up.

Swallowing her revulsion, she grabbed a handful of the man's silky cloth and gently wiped away gunk surrounding the hole. It wasn't even that much of a hole, it was sort of a dimple with… some gleamed dully at amidst the shredded pectoral muscle. She leaned closer, inviting more of the light onto his bare chest.

_Not a bad chest, _she thought appreciatively.

With her face bent close to his chest, she almost hit the ceiling when the man sucked in a watery breath.

_At least he isn't dead, _she thought with relief.

She shuffled backwards in case he woke up. Injured or not she wanted a head start. Hoisting herself up off her knees she weaved through the boxes into a corner where a red plastic bucket sat undisturbed by the ruckus. She pulled out the few spare t-shirts she had soaking, laying them out of the cement and hurried out through a rusting sheet. A little further out and down was a jetty and leaning down she could just scoop up some salt water. She had to be careful, the handle was strained to would break sooner or later.

Returning with the same caution she eased tentatively to his side, passing her hand above his eyes, still hidden beneath the cowl. He'd better hope he was unconscious otherwise the pain would be excruciating. Ripping off another piece of that lovely, soft cloak grudgingly, she cleaned closer to the wound.

Pulling away a bubbly clot, she probed with fascination. After her family had settled in Australia she had grown up desperately wanting to be a veterinarian. Now the closest thing she got to it was pulling glass out of the paws of stray cats, spitting, flat headed furry balls of razor blades.

She wondered how close the assailant had been when he shot, his chest cavity must have exploded! Fine white lines she recognised as nerves congealed in the blood that had splashed down his chest and over his pants. In fact, it had _poured_.

But, the wound was no deeper than her pinky finger. The bloke was a conundrum, no doubt about it.

And the puss! The bugger's skin radiated heat! The wound was infected, but it at least took four, or even five days for an infection of this magnitude to set in. Akira, who had enjoyed gory movies and enthralled by medical journals, tried to remember what her biology teacher had said about the immune system. Various kinds of white blood cells, some engulfing the antibodies, or was that antigens?

Working methodically around the hole she let her mind drift, back to her childhood, back to Thailand. There one of her aunties was a healing woman. She had sat quietly in a corner as Pun mashed up various leaves into a paste and spread it over a young man's bicep that had been shredded by a bamboo stake whilst working in the fields, mumbling rhythmic prayers to Buddha.

Working further down the chest and washing away some of the congealed blood her eyes kept straying to the hole and the dull grey gleam, almost like the flesh was trying to grow around it. The bullet, obviously, but she tried to decide if she could remove it herself. Playing doctor was actually pretty fun.

_You know what? I think the body _is _trying to heal around the bullet, and if you take it out he'll be fine._

Having grown up in the mountainous area of Thailand where temples sprouted up like mushrooms, she was not as obtuse to spiritual beings as she would have liked, and preparing to rip off another piece cinched it. Curiously feeling along the inside seam, she felt stitches. Sure enough, written in neat calligraphic suture was the word _Jin_.

Jin wasn't apart of her native tongue, but when she had once visited her father while her worked in the coastal cities to earn money, she had been childishly confused as to why they acted like Japanese. The women bleached their skin to make it white and the teenagers often spoke the language, like it was cool or something. The word rang a bell and someone answered the door.

_Funny, Jin means spirit, or demon; _she deliberated nervously.

Lingering no longer she leapt to her feet and skittered across the cold floor. She bounded up and caught a low spar and swung up. From there she skipped from beam to rafter to plank like a spider on a caffeine rush until she reached her loft. She grabbed her blanket and a small patchwork pouch. The meagre jangle of coins was depressing as she tossed the chord over her neck, but she had needed a new pair of shoes. The city was not a place to run barefoot, but she didn't want to waste time with the knots she had tied the laces into to amuse herself. She dropped the blanket over the edge and heard a dull clump as it hit the floor.

Then with the same energetic leaps, she started her decent and reached the bottom in less than a minute. Akira seized the blanket and darted back to the man. His breathing was laboured and his temperature was soaring. She tucked the blanket under his head for a pillow and was on her feet again, out the door and racing through the eerie shadows and brooding buildings.

Dodging trash cans, sunken couches and broken bottles, her bare feet drummed a whispering tattoo across the ground.

She wound her way down the zigzagging streets with ease but she could have sworn all they were playing tricks on her, changing directions whenever she stopped to regain her breath. Just when she though she was lost entirely, Akira saw hope, the flashing neon sign of the only 24/7 shop in the district, _The Frog and Wog_. The owners were kind and let her work four days a week stacking and unpacking stock, despite having all the man power they needed.

Still, Akira prayed that only one of its owners instead of both were working tonight, otherwise she would inevitably be drawn into one of their ridiculous arguments.

The automatic doors whooshed open as she pelted across the movement sensor. Gasping she tried to walk as calmly as she could down the aisles vinyl runway.

Akira snatched a red plastic basket and dropped in two rolls of bandages, a large bottle of antiseptic and a manicure set.

She tried to slow her racing thoughts so to think this through carefully. _Hot water, some matches and some of that pure bottled stuff, _she mused tossing them in. _He'll be hungry so some noodles maybe, _placing in two packets, one for him and one for her. Lately, to save a bit more money she'd been skipping meals when she thought she could afford to, today had been no different.

She walked to the counter controlling her breath so that it didn't come in such ragged gasps. Thinking again, she picked up some of the strongest sedatives she could find and added them to the basket.

Turning around the lane she stopped in her tracks and groaned. Despite being the dead of the night, The Frog and Wog's two owners stood face to face yelling and spitting like tomcats.

"You ah never wwrrrong?" cried the French Claude, his blonde curls bobbing around in a frenzy, "Bah! What about zee time-"

"Ah eem nevar wrong! Yew mock meh!" shouted back the Italian Aristos, his pudgy face puffing up. "Ah! Akira ist her! She'll teel us!"

"No time tonight guys," she said forcefully. She tipped the contents of her pouch reluctantly onto the counter. The coins chattered and rolled to a stop, winking at her in the artificial light. She put the basket next to the coins and notes. Time crawled by agonisingly slow. The _beep, beep, beep _of the register as Aristos scanned each barcode. _Beeeep_He frowned. _Beeeeep_

"How mech ist thee noodals Claude?"

"Oaf! Two ninety nine eech!" Aristos punched in the keys and Claude looked at her suspiciously. "If I didant know bet-_ter_, I'd sey you were doeing serrrjerrry," he reflected in an offhanded way. "Anoder mangy cat eh?"

Akira forced smile. "Yeah, big old tomcat!"

"Why you smile? Yew don smile!" Aristos had his eyebrows raised. Her mind came up blank. Seeing she wasn't going to answer he added, "and you're short." She threw out her packet of noodles regretfully and put them on the closest shelf as well as the sedatives, trading them for El' Cheapo aspirin.

"Please guys, just lend me this and I'll come back and work it off, please? Come on, free labour!"

"You ah no gewd. You can't reech topsheelf!" Claude sniffed but there was no strength behind it.

"Come on Claude, she is using the puppy eys. Ok, but tomorrow bright and early!"

"Thankyou!" Akira cried. Aristos handed her the bag of groceries with a curious smile. Clutching them to her chest, she dashed into the night. Behind her, the Frog and the Wog resumed their argument as if she had never been there.

Akira ran through the door; puffing and panting, sweat dripping down her face and water in her eyes. Before she even had a clear head, a hand clapped over her mouth and grasped her around the chest, pinning her arms to her sides.

Her eyes widened in surprise but suddenly hardened again, narrowing into furious slits. Akira hated being touched, even worse by some arrogant mugger who thought that size mattered. The ball of her foot snapped back and under the kneecap, driving it upwards. She felt her attacker wince, but his grip didn't lessen. With a touch of annoyance, she smashed her foot down over his knee, and crushed the tips of his toes.

This time he grunted and his hands gave way a little.

That was all she needed. Recognising the silky cape sweeping around her ankles, Akira drove her elbow up into his festering injury.

The man gasped, doubling over in agony and dropping to the ground. Akira took off for the far wall and the safety of the rafters. She halted, a cruel smile playing her usually blank lips. She put the supplies down out of the way at a safe distance. She knew Claude and Aristos would give her a refund, as long as none of it was damaged. If the man wanted a fight, she'd give it to him.

She stepped cautiously forward towards the grunting man. He still lay sucking in one pained breath after another. She stood over him smirking.

_Serves the prick right! _She grinned ready to plant a swift kick to his groin and temple. It would knock him unconscious, or even better, kill him.

Suddenly the man's eyes flew open, aware and focused. Akira squawked in surprise, too dumbfound to speak. The man swooped his legs beneath hers and her head kissed the cement with a _smack_! Her eyes rolled into her head, as she lay confused on the ground. Bright lights flashed in front of her watery vision.

The man rocked to his feet and gathered his wits about him. She knew how to exploit a weakness, he admitted to himself still gingerly covering his chest. He pressed his boot over his dainty neck just enough to make her see who was running this three ringed circus.

The moon cast its silvery rays through the roof window across the girl's face, alighting her features.

She was of oriental birth, with long knotty black hair was held back with a worn hair band and fanned around her head. A thick fringe partially hid her dark eyes. Now they started up puzzled and blinked often. A petite nose and heart shaped lips were pressed into a thin line of anger. A small smile of amusement crossed his mouth as she glared up at him furiously, cross-eyed.

His eyes travelled lower. Small shoulders with barely muscled arms so thin he though they would snap if any pressure at all were applied. A much too large shirt with a star and the word _girl_ written below it in English concealed what would also be a scrawny body. Even bigger red shorts held up by an old shoelace and stickish legs poked beneath them with hard-calloused feet.

She was so small! It could have been genetic but he was sure malnourishment was the case. The girl couldn't have been more than 15!

"What are you doing here?" he asked in Japanese. Her pretty eyes flickered. She understood him at least a little but refused to talk. He started to apply some force onto her pert neck. She gagged but still only scowled at him. "I asked again, what are you doing here?"

A fierce flash of teeth. He had to press harder. The girl's eyes bulge but her mouth stayed firmly shut. If he put any more weight on it, he'd crush her windpipe. She was a stubborn girl.

The man smiled again and lifted his foot. As soon there was a centimetre of space the girl rolled from under it and was on her feet in a cat stance, not perfect but he got the idea. He raised his palms in submission showing he had nothing to hide.

"See," he murmured still in Japanese. "I ask under no force, what are you doing here and what is in that bag?"

"WHAT AM I DOING HERE?" she spat, broken in his tongue. "THIS IS MY HOME! The question here is what THE HELL are you doing here!" She calmed down and spoke in a quieter tone, though her voice no less threatening. "That bag is filled with supplies to save your goddamned life! In case you didn't notice, that mark on your chest, you know the one that made you choke on your own breath, it's infected you is going to kill you unless I remove that bullet and disinfect it!"

"Sorry," he murmured flatly, his hand moving to hover over his chest. When he awoke he had found his chest had been daubed clean. It had been her. He inched closer.

She saw this and readied her stance.

"I just want to thank you."

"You can do it from there."

He was a little taken aback that she was so guarded. He moved closer still, his cloak rustling and his hood falling lower over his eyes. He was sure he looked a most frightening figure so he wasn't surprised when she raised her foot ready to deliver a stunning kick aimed for his heart. She made a sharp _tsssssst_

_Trying to bluff me,_ he thought, _like a cat_.

Now close enough to touch her, he reached out. She hissed again, slapping the hand away and lashing out with her left foot.

The man instinctively blocked low, prepared to jar the knee with an X block. The girl veered around it in a bizarre question mark kick and clipped him across the face. Despite being a head and a half shorter, her leg twisted and reached with ease and comfort. Before that foot even touched the ground, her other came around in a full crescent kick knocking away the hand guarding his wound, struck hard and fast and leaping out of reach again.

He was on the ground, gasping, and moaning before he was aware. His eyes watered! His breath was caught in his throat! No matter how much air he took in none reached his lungs! His limbs flailed wildly and had no control.

His heart seared in his chest, slamming against his rib cage in a desperate urge to escape. Every nerve was aflame and throbbing with an agony all of its own, such as he had never felt before or could have even imagined.

Nevertheless, even through the pain he could feel himself changing.

_No! _His mind screamed in revulsion. _Nooooo_

Black tattoos ripple across his face only hidden by the cowl of his hood. He felt his shoulder blades shift and protrude and stretch some more.

He looked for the girl. He caught a sudden glimpse of her ratty hair and she was behind him. He tilted his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. She towered over him, a short staff in her hands. His eyes widened in far as it whistled through the air.

"Help me!" he gasped. The staff smacked across the side of his skull and the room swam before sinking into inky blackness.

_Well that's it! Some of you may remember its pervious version, but I assure you this will be taking a different curve. You can read it at Ki's special website www. geocities. com / akiraslightning_

_Just get rid of the spaces and it should work_


	2. You're a Long Way Off, Mate

**When Lightning Strikes Twice**

**Part 2**

_You're a Long Way from Home, Mate_

_Out like a light_, Akira thought with a feeble smile without humour, panting faintly. The smile was stretched to keep from screaming. On one hand she had just whacked a man, or at least a man shaped demon with a broom stick, on the other she was relatively safe.

Her reaction had been a tinsy bit drastic, but like most martial artists her instincts had kicked in and her mind had backed down to let the body take over. One attack had rolled smoothly into another beyond any expectations. As her fist arced across the space and drove as hard as she dared into his tender flesh she was surprised that she had actually been able to follow through her kata she had been practising. It had been even easier than whirling around her poor excuse for a boxing bag, a hessian sack packed with sawdust, tied in from a beam beneath her loft.

Warm pride bubbled up from her chest, but settled like sludge at the bottom of a bucket when she remembered what had happened next.

He had yelled, a harsh crow like croak and dropped to the ground writhing. His face gagged and turned a bright red as he tried to inhale. His body suddenly began to jerk and convulse, floundering like a fish on land. Air was dragged through his mouth like the last mouthful of milkshake up a straw.

_A seizure, _Akira panicked, backing away. _Some sort of epileptic fit? _His limbs flung erratically and his cloak flared and dipped. For an instant, the moonlight shone past the cowl and onto his upturned face. Strange black patterns etched over his skin like Maori face paint even as she watched. It gleamed with its own dark light but they were nothing compared to his eyes. They glowed like dying embers, red and hateful.

Then, just like that, the hood slipped back obscuring the face again.

_SPIRIT! DEMON! JIN! _

Akira's mind shrieked hysterically. Her hands flew to her mouth as if physically trying to hold back the scream trying to force its way up her throat. Bile burned across her tongue. She stooped down still keeping a flustered eye on the demon. Her hands scrambled along the ground until she found the perfect weapon, a long smooth. Yes! She thanked her forethought rapturously. When she grabbed the bucket she had also grabbed an old broomstick.

She bounced up and danced behind its crazed circles with her rod held above her head ready to bash its brains in.

Teeth gritted, Akira whipped it down like a flash of lightning.

"Help me!"

The choked, helpless voice reached deep down into the slimy recesses of her brain and touched a chord. It throttled it. At last the possible moment she changed its descent so it only stuck the side of his head and narrowly missed the killing blow. He loosed a soft, moan before slumping to the ground unconscious, for real this time she was sure.

Gasping and wondering what the hell had happened, she leaned on the stick and caught her breath, trying to swallow the stomach acid that had crawled up her throat. Standing stock still she stared at the limp body, lying on its side with the cowl mercifully covering the face it wore. It took her a while to get up the courage to come within distance of the thing.

Finally, curiosity over came her. _Curiosity killed the cat, _Akira berated herself, and she kicked his side. _Satisfaction brought it back_.

No reaction. Still not sure she gave him another good solid kick to his back. The man rolled over a little, with a dull groan, like a tree trunk in a gale. Kneeling beside him warily, still prepared to rock back onto toes and away, she reached fearfully towards the hood. His head lolled lazily on his shoulder. Her fingers itched as her hand hung above the hood but yanked it back quickly as she thought he stirred.

_Coward! _She scolded and with a flick of her wrist the man's face was in full view.

Fine chiselled features of his Japanese heritage made it easy to judge his age. She was surprised when he seemed only a few years older than herself. Silky black locks swept back and up so that they spiked a little while other stray strands fell roguishly across his face. In sleep it looked boyish and innocent, but then again everyone probably did without their brain working a mile a minute.

She brushed them aside to find instead of an alien mask but thick feathery eyebrows arching over his eyes. Akira was tempted to lift the lids to check that they weren't the raging red eyes that had stared at her with such vehemence.

She immediately felt sorry for the man. He was a man and it was probably just her own paranoia that had made hallucinate. _It was a hallucination, _she told herself.All that crap about healing and the meaning of Jin tricked you. You saw beneath his hood for less than a fraction of a second. He probably just had the bad the bad luck to stumble into a street brawl and accidentally got shot. When she ran in making more noise then a thunderstorm, he had only done what seemed natural.

_Then how do you explain the martial arts? _she retorted.

"So he's some cool Kungfu guy. Having fists the size of hammers still don't stand up to a gun and any properly trained person could drive you into the ground. All you have is some vague memories from when you were little and those boys from school. Tai Chi is not a martial art."

Content but still not totally sure, Akira resolved to help him anyway. She only had to do a little bit, and he would do the rest.

_You're going on with that demon crap again so stop it._

She stopped her brain there, knowing that she believed it but pretending that she didn't and she was a scientist. Getting up quickly, she fetched the grocery bag and set the water to boil.

_Feathers! Fire! Fiend!_

_Faces whirled around him, some familiar, and some vague ghosts of the past. Sometimes they pulled and stretched to become parodies of real people while other these creatures merged to become the face of an enemy, or even worse, that of a loved one._

_Screams rent the air that tore his heart. He knew the voice, He knew where he was, _when_ he was. The wind whirled around him, mussing his hair, dragging his clothes. Thunder echoed through the forest and lightning etched each shadow in its blinding path. But the wind, how he despised it and what it carried with it. The chilling swirling wind._

_Flames licked the trees around him, disorientating him with their greedy crackling and flickering orange light bathing the trees. He screamed in frustration, turning left and right for any source of direction._

_A high-pitched cry pierced through his thoughts so clear it was surreal. His legs beneath him wheeled and flew in what direction the cream seemed to come from and couldn't stop. Something else controlled his body, maybe some mysterious unknown force or maybe destiny._

_The voice shrieked again, closer. _

_"Mother!" he yelled hoarse. He choked on the thick black smoke undulating into horrifying creatures and then spiralling up into the blazing sky. _

_"Mother!" he yelled again crashing through the undergrowth and into a clearing ringed by demonic shadows and hungry flames. Within the clearing was a tiny log cabin engulfed by the inferno. The windowpanes shattered and the roof caving in. In fact, the whole house was gutted. He knew it hadn't been like that but what did reality mean here?_

_"No!" he moaned. His home since birth and everything inside he cherished was now ashes. All gone…._

_The wind blasted him off his feet and into the dirt bringing on its icy currents "Toshin…."_

_"Noooo!"__ A spectre weaved between the trees with tumultuous footfalls making the trees creak and groan._

_A thin figure appeared in front of the cabin. She was beautiful. Silky black hair just below her shoulders swayed gently despite the great squalls the creature brought with it. Dressed all in a faint glowing white dress, she seemed so pure, an angel. She reached with a slender arm beckoning to him. "Jin," she called softly._

_He pushed himself out of the mud, straining to reach that hand._

_All at once the creature fell from the sky to land behind his unconcerned mother, towering over her. He snatched her by the wrist, dangling her just above his head as if to swallow her whole._

_As if the whole situation finally dawned on her, her face broke into a terrified rictus. She screamed silently, being drowned out by the roaring thunder and shrieking winds. She kicked and thrashed while Toshin only laughed at her feeble attempts. _

_"Come and get her!" he challenged, his voice a deep grating growl._

_Jin leapt to his feet running for his mother with all his heart but his feet were like lead. He tripped and stumbled over them in a desperate urge to reach his mother before…._

_He beat, kicked, and slashed with everything he knew. Pivoting and wheeling with all the speed and grace he possessed. Lunging and reeling with all the precision he held._

_Hopeless._

_His mother screamed over and over in hysterical sobs. "Run Jin! Run! Get away while you still can."_

_Against his mother's pleas, he fought on._

_Suddenly Toshin's face loomed over him, his eyes sparkling with cold amusement "Pest!" he hissed. "You can't defeat me!"_

_He swelled! He grew and grew to be as tall as the trees like some giant ogre. With one gigantic backhand, Toshin knocked him flying. He slammed into a tree with a thwack, pushing the air from his lungs. The last thing he knew before fading into unconsciousness were his mothers dying screams and Toshins taunts of, "Devil….."_

Jin bolted upright, coughing and spluttering. His eyes darted everywhere trying to adjust to the flickering light. Fire! The flames that had raged so tall had followed him from his nightmare and…

He was OK, nothing but a haunting nightmare, but he hadn't had it in two years but he knew what had brought it back. He tried to stand but the pain returned with a vengeance and he flopped onto his back groaning, staring up at the shadows flickering over the corrugated tin roof. Closing his eyes the image of the flaming forest was still stamped on the inside of his eyelids. He relented and opened his eyes again. Would he ever be rid of it.

Emerging mysteriously from the darkness, and threading her way between a path cleared between the boxes came the girl, jabbering a garble of words as stared at him intensely. After a hazy minute her realised it was English. He spoke it fluently, along with French and Spanish because whatever else his grandfather lacked his education had not, but was too tired to even try. He blinked away the last of the drowsiness and focused them. The girl had disappeared again. Remembering her staff, he sat up very carefully, looking around apprehensively.

He jerked when she appeared silently from his other side offering a steaming container.

_How did she do that?_ He wondered while taking the plastic container, thanking her in a dry raspy voice. Inside were noodles with a steamy chicken smell. She was probably doing it to keep him disorientated, sitting just out of the firelight.

"Sorry, I don't have any forks, or spoons, or knives," she apologised with an almost embarrassed laugh. She was speaking Japanese again. It was halting and had to rephrase it twice before he had understood. Her voice wasn't hard and it was now very interested. Her head cocked to one side and her eyes followed his every movement. He tried not to think about what she might of seen, but she didn't seem frightened anymore, merely cautious. A smile even pressed her lips. She was sitting just out of reach in a half legged position, still ready to run.

Relaxing a little at her easy manner, Jin smiled back in his most friendly manner and used his fingers to scoop out some of the long mushy noodles. The girl obviously didn't cook often, dropping them into his mouth and slurped up the loose strands. It was only then he realized how hungry he was. Despite being too salty, too cooked and obviously from a packet, he woofed down half and then slurped some of the flavoured water, licking his lips. He hadn't eaten since, since.

After a minute he gave up and chewed slowly, trying to make it last.

She stilled watched him.

She always looks ready to run, yet determined to stay. Like a mouse with an attitude. Jin laughed under his breath between mouthfuls at the thought receiving a quizzical look from the girl. Swallowing that mouthful he took another, dangling them above his mouth. Her eyes followed him intently, or to be more precise, the noodles. Her mouth practically watered and her eyes hunted them like a bird of prey. Swallowing, he handed her what was left.

Eyeing it with a mixture of suspicion and gratitude, she grudgingly shook her head, pushing it back towards him. "You eat it, you'll need your strength," she said looking pointedly at his chest. "I really can't understand why you're not dead." Her expression however spoke otherwise. Her smile became smug and knowing. "You're also damned heavy."

For the first time Jin really noticed. His black cloak was gone and after inspection, what was left was folded neatly on a crate. His bare chest was heavily bandaged and so tight it almost hurt. Over his heart was a red stain. He touched it lightly and the pain shot through him, stars twinkling in front of his eyes. He gasped at its ferocity.

"Didn't believe me so you just had to touch it didn't you?" she snickered. She stood up and took his coat. She handed it to him carefully, still wary. She was very unnerving.

"Put it on or you'll stuff yourself worse. You wouldn't think it but you probably could stuff yourself even worse. Winds sometimes come off the water are very cold."

"Thankyou." He slung it over his shoulders, leaving the hood down. They sat enjoying the comfort of the fire until the girl yawed, rubbing her temples and swearing in English. She looked up at the windows where the moons ghostly light shone though a little. Groaning she swore again.

"Can you speak English?" she asked with a tinge of annoyance.

"Easily," he replied doing so.

"Good," she muttered switching. "Now I can stop thinking I haven't spoken Japanese since I left school. We had to do a language from Grade Six and up. Ten years and a still talk like some demented insane asylum escapee."

"You're 16?" He arched an eyebrow sceptically. She couldn't be.

"What you look like an old bugger to me."

His eyes widened in shock, but then dropped to the floor. His life couldn't have been that of any normal child. He guessed that shock, after loss, after betrayal had taken its toll on him. He felt old. "I'm 19."

Blatantly ignoring his uncomfortableness at the situation, she pressed him. "Nup, you got old eyes, like you've seen a lot."

"I have."

Her ears pricked and leaned forward eagerly. "Do tell."

He didn't answer and they fell into a thoughtful silence, watching the embers. Jin shuddered, as his dream came back as vivid as when it had happened. Trying to shake his thoughts, he asked her, "So what's your name?"

"What's yours?" she retorted automatically.

He hesitated but when he saw her smug smile creeping back onto her face he said carefully. "Jin." He frowned as the girl flinched. It hurt but he understood. Jin meant demon, a name fitting for one such as he. He looked at her expectantly and she finally answered.

"Akira." Her face fought to choose an expression. When none could be decided, she settled on blank.

"I mean no offence, but that's a male name, and you don't look Japanese."

"I'm not. I'm Thai. My family came to Sydney when I was six on a boat. The bugger who did our passports was an American and thought it would be safer if our family was Japanese because of the border problems at the time. Must have plucked the names from the air." After a moment she added, "My name was Tip, we came from a mountain village."

"Would you like me to call you Tip?" he asked gently. She was sweet, a bit whiffy but sweet.

She shook her head with a grin. "Nah, a tip round here means garbage dump. Akira sounds more exotic."

"So was that Muay Thai?"

"A bit of everything. The village boys taught me kick boxing because it was funny. As long as I kept on being funny, the more they taught me. Then I came here and my dad wouldn't let me learn it anymore. He said we had to be Australian. So the boys at school taught me what they knew. Lots off stuff. I have a lot of time on my hands so I can practice a lot." Her head dropped onto her knees hugged to her chest morosely, thinking of her mother, her father and all her brothers and sisters in Sidney.

"Do they live near here?" Jin asked sympathetically.

She blinked, her eyes popping. "Brisbane is a long way from Sydney mate, you're way off."

He too stared at her in revelation. He had crossed the equator! The devil! Now he wondered at its powers even more. The Land Down Under, if he was going to hide from Heihatchi there was no better place. Her eyes probed harder, willing him to continue talking and answer her internal questions.

"How did you do this?" he asked flippantly, trying to deflect anymore questions. His hand hovered above the bloodstain but remembered its sting.

Akira blew on her fingers and rubbed them on her tattered blue shirt. "Practice makes perfect," she returned cryptically, the edge of her mouth almost curling.

Intrigued, Jin pressed. "On the children in the street?"

"No, cats. Their always getting glass pieces in their paws or shrapnel in their sides."

"What happened to the cats?"

"They died." Without waiting, she hopped to her feet and ordered, "Go back to sleep. I'm not going to be here when you wake up but I advise you don't move a whole lot. In fact, stay here, don't move. If the pain gets bad, take as many of these as you can without killing yourself." She dug into her pocket and produced a box. She tossed it too him. In the dim light, he thought it read laxative but his English was out of practice and he doubted the girl would be so cruel. He remembered that smirk she had given him and thought otherwise. When he looked up, Akira was leaping form beam to beam before disappearing beyond the firelight.

_Well I feel fine, _he thought firmly.

_And I'm sure the cats did too……._


	3. Meet the Fat Society

Thankyou very much to both Element6 and Ice Phoenix, it's a pleasure to have you both back and reading. I hope you enjoy the changes I've made, your reviews mean a lot to me! You can still check out her webpage at Lightning Strikes Twice

**Part 3**

_Meet the Fat Society_

"Naw, naw, naw!" Claude cried throwing his arms into the air. He smacked his palm to his forehead and to Akira the feeling was mutual. "Zee Nuitrigrain goes on zee top shelf!"

"I can't reach the top shelf!" Akira complained loudly. If she wasn't so exhausted she would have been yelling, and possibly hurling fruit, but all she could manage was a dull whine. No matter how she tried she just didn't feel like meeting anyone half way today. She awoke late, rushed to at least be presentable to the public and ended up looking like an upside down mop. Her laces were still impossibly knotted and so she had spend 20 of the time inspecting the grimy linoleum.

"Zen use zee ladder!"

With a defeated sigh she threw her arms into the air and stalked past Claude all the dignity she could muster into the back room. Yawning, she slung herself over a rung on the ladder and closed her eyes. The temptation to curl up beneath the dirty laundry was so powerful she could barely stop herself, but Claude and Aristos had done her a big favour and she would pay it back in full if it killed her, maybe even in good humour if she could stop her head from ringing. Going without a night's sleep and no food for since breakfast the previous day, dying seemed a very real possibility. Akira slipped the ladder over her shoulder and carried it carefully up the aisle.

"Watch it!" snapped a woman as she browsed a shelf.

"Don't chuck a hissy fit," she growled under her breath. She had the appearance and demeanour of a high school maths teacher. As she tottered past trying to keep her balance, she had a good mind to….

"AKIRAH!" She hurried on and sat it against the ledge while the Frog tsked, tsked her for tardiness. She usually got on well with the two shop owners but today he seemed out to get her, picking over the tiniest mistakes without any concern for her baggy eyelids. Grumbling under her breath, she scaled the ladder to its top rung and started the monotonous task of sorting the stupid boxes, oldest at the front. Soon she settled into a pattern. Up, stuff the boxes in, down, get more, back up.

Up, down, up, down, Akira was getting sleepy and complacent and careless. Her mind drifted away into a zen like stupor. One thought that entertained her quite a bit was the possibility of karma. If it did she would much rather it was instant, rather than waiting for whatever the next life had in store. She decided that a much more believable theory in life was the Rubberband Theory, where for every positive thing you did to better mankind, the little rubber band stretched a bit more until one day it all snapped back on you and left you frantically calling Shit Creek Paddle Company.

Her good deed risking life and limb for a stranger must have cinched.

She placed the box in its place and started down again.

"Oh if I ever get out of herw I'll-"

Akira screamed! Her foot slipped through the rungs and fell backwards! Her ankle caught along the side and dashed her into the Milo tins and Fruitloops, dazing her. Before she could even breathe a sigh of relief that she wouldn't crash headfirst into the linoleum floor, the ladder swivelled on one leg, teetering an instant before topping. With her head pounding, she couldn't even begin to think, only wait.

"I ave you Kira!" Claude, always nimble on his feet came from nowhere and snatched the ladder with one hand and cradling her head with the other.

As soon as he had the ladder steady against the shelf, he unhooked her ankle and lay her on the ground. "Akira, you OK? Come on Kira!" he whispered anxiously.

"What all dis racket!" called Aristos from the counter. His footsteps quickened until he was almost running. When he slid to a stop on the slippery floor, he saw Akira leaning against the shelf with Milo tins littering the ground. Claude knelt beside her with his hand on her shoulder and a concerned expression.

"What happened?" he cried, joining Claude at her side.

"I'm OK," Akira said for the fifth time. She was no longer seeing double at least. "I was coming down the ladder, my foot slipped, Claude caught me. I've got a headache but I'll be fine."

"Naw, Naw. You dead on your feet, finish up this afternoon," Aristos insisted, clearly exchanging an _I told you so_ look with Claude. Claude, pulling her to her feet looked repentant, but glared back anyway. Akira could only wonder what made such clearly opposite people go into business together.

"But-"

"Naw! You go now!" With a shove that threatened to bruise, he ushered her through the door with a tired wave. As she walked away backwards, returning the wave gratefully she suddenly realised that they must have been up half the night too. Claude had a wife and two young children while Aristos only had a daughter her own age, . She resolved to be back in two hours with an attitude like a ray of sunshine.

But what would she do till then? A catnap would hit the spot but the idea of returning to the warehouse in daylight was strangely disconcerting, like finding a vampire in its coffin.

_There you go again,_ _demon my ass_. _It's a shoddy demon if it can't beat a skinny little girl, _she rebuked amiably, swinging her legs lazily as she unconsciously chose the path towards one of Brisbane's most popular parks, Southbank.

School kids were often there on fieldtrips, clamouring around the lolly store or being addressed by teachers in front of the Imax theatre or Brisbane Museum. Market's sprawled the winding footpaths, all inevitably leading to the shore of the Brisbane River. During school holidays the fountains and pools were crammed with children splashing about.

She could hear the boisterous shouts of university students goofing off below in one of the fountains.

The bright sunlight, the flowering fig trees, the laughter was all in blessed contrast to last night's grappling.

_Jin….._ she cringed. What kind of nutcase named their kid Jin? As she worked by the firelight, she had found the bullet near the surface and cleaned it up. The small capillaries already began to knit themselves back together much to her wonder. But the strangest was as she was binding the wound. Straining to roll him onto his side she found dozens of glossy black quill feathers, lying in his cloak and three or four sticking out of his shoulder blades, actually imbedded in his skin. They had come out easily though they had bled quite a bit. Those feathers were now tucked away in her loft and planned to study them later. One thing for sure, they weren't pigeon feathers.

Speaking of pigeons, plump ones scurried by a fountain just opposite the chattering markets looking like walking marshmallows. Whatever else her father had trained out of her in an effort to appear more Australian, strange appetites wasn't one of them. Sometimes she found herself watching a fat ally cat sitting on top of a trashcan and wondering what it tasted like.

The thought of marshmallows only reminded her of the dull ache in the pit of her empty stomach. She was working today for free, spent the last of her money on amateur surgery and had a second mouth to feed. It irked her that she actually felt like she had a responsibility to look after Jin, she liked to think of herself as a street hardened fighter who only looked out for herself, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth.

Without much thought, she leaned over the fountain and made a cursory check of her appearance, smoothing out her clothes and using scoops of water to pat down her perpetually knotty, greasy hair. With her wasted figure, her mop head hair and purple ringed eyes, she looked the poster child for why you shouldn't do drugs. Quickly combing her fingers through her hair she redone her ponytail and smiled at her reflection. It was close enough to presentable.

She then wandered around the circumference of the fountain choosing a spot close enough to the market stalls to be just heard by the crowds but far enough away not to be smothered. The cool bubbling of the fountain eased her tense muscles and the salty scent of the Brisbane River cleared her lungs after the dank and mould of the backstreets.

The Citycats, ferries of the rich, cruised along the river in a league of their own. Their rolling waves rocked the dinghies up and down in steady motions, barely disturbing the fisherman with their rods held loosely and their hats tipped low over their faces, hiding them from the midday sun. Yacht and windsurfers dipped and swayed in the wind, the surfers more so. Akira smiled softly as one board overturned and its rider came up spluttering, a broad grin on his face.

It was then she felt a touch of envy. Even if she had stayed with her parents in Sydney she would have been no better off. She lived in a unit in one of the more infamous suburbs, sharing her room with her four younger sisters, a devastating blow to a girl growing into her independence. The announcement of another bundle of joy to the family was the last straw and she ran away. She left her family a note, telling them she was seeking her fortune and wouldn't be back until she made it big. In what she had no idea and still didn't. She wrote a postcard when she could, lying about the small room she rented from a nice old lady and the well paying job. She didn't want her picture to turn up on the front page of a newspaper listed as missing, presumed dead.

Aware that her lunchbreakwas passing away, she scoured the ground until she found half of a ludicrous clay pot. She knew the design and that it had come from Marla's stall from the markets behind her, a pleasant woman from Zimbabwe.

She rinsed the pot in the fountain thoroughly and then put it in front of her so that those around her could clearly see she was busking. She only stooped to busking when she was in a deep pit, it was humiliating depending on the generosity of others doing their good deed for the day so they could feel all warm and fuzzy.

Her cynical mood pushed away any lingering goodwill towards mankind. She flushed with anger as a man gave her a cold stare, looked into the pot as if seeing if their was anything worth stealing, then flicked his gaze at her with a cool look of contempt, before walking away with his nose in the air.

Akira clenched her fists so tight that her knuckles paled. She glared after him with naked hatred in her eyes. _How dare he sneer at me! _She raged silently. She had done nothing but exist and he had still looked at her like something he had stepped in. She resisted the urge the temptation of hurling the pot at his receding head.

"Don't worry about him dear." The soft throbbing voice made her start. Looking down, she saw it had come from a sweet old lady. Though frail and hunchbacked, she could see the woman was accustomed to an easy retirement. Suddenly she startled Akira by dropping a five-dollar note inside.

"But I haven't done anything yet," she murmured incredulous, simultaneously feeling a blow to her pride and the need to grab the note before the woman could regret putting laying it down.

The woman winked and patted her arm assuring, her frosting fairyfloss hair bobbing up and down. "That's OK dear, you wouldn't be here if you didn't know what you were doing."

The lady hobbled back, giving Akira some space to perform but she only stood uncertainly, her eyes narrowing on the money. It would give her at least an ample feed, but then there was Jin, and dinner, and breakfast after that. She felt a desperate urge to earn that five dollars. She was by no means some great popstar waiting to be discovered, her voice cracked on high notes and was too soft on low notes, but she usually earned her money by the exotic lyrics that no one understood.

"Um, this is, in English, _Waiting for You," _Akira swallowed and remembered the soft lilting melody of a song that had been popular about the time she had left the village. As like any child, she knew every word note and beat vividly. She could almost hear the soft beat of the drum and the chitterling of the cymbals in background. A flute whistled the strains, gradually building, waiting for the vocalist to ease her voice in beside its own.

Remembering Priss's pulsing voice, the original artist, she strove to remember the words. The Thai people loved sing. Every household whether they could afford it or not owned a Karaoke machine and would burst into song without warning.

As her voice trailed off, she returned to reality and a scattering of applause. Six or seven people watched her with admiration. Her mouth curled at the corners and blushing a little. Despite doing this a few times before, she could never get used to being the centre of attention and even she was not immune to flattery. With new confidence, she launched into a cheerful little pop song

As she sang, she was more aware of those watching, especially the old woman. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, tapping her foot and nodding her head, sending her misty hair awry. After that song, followed by a song about carrots giving you rosy red cheeksafter a fifth and sixth song, children's songs but the crowd didn't need to know, she decided she had had enough and bowed, thanking the audience.

The tinkling of spare change was like music to her ears and once the crowd had dispersed, she snatched the coins from the clay pot and stuffed the gold and silver coins in pocket, but marvelled at the five notes that had been dropped in. One was even a twenty!

She stared wryly at takings, glad the deed was over but still feeling a little slimy. "It'll last until tomorrow, she sighed. She had work tomorrow at a grocery mart tomorrow and would be payed the day after on the Friday. What would Jin like to eat? "Macca's here we come."

"Wrong! Maccas, here we come!" Rough hands yanked the notes from her hands and shoved her into the fountain, with a harsh bray of laughter. The coins split from her shallow pockets and scattered to the floor of the cascade.

She broke the surface, coughing and wheezing. She spat out the water from her lungs and clawing for the edge. This fountain was unusually deep, almost as deep as she was tall. She pulled herself onto her elbows and snarled in a voice barely human for her lost coins. The water gushed gently from the funnel, matting her already matted hair and dripping into her stormy eyes. Still coughing she glared up at her offenders, the Fat Society.

Their leader, Needle, hawed loudly, snorting like a pig. His shoulders stretched and though the majority of his bulk was indeed muscle, he was still soft around the belly which jiggled and wobbled, disgusting to watch. Oily brown hair clung to his scalp twisted with scraps of metal. Squinty eyes she had never seen in a Caucasian were much a target of her ridicule. His eyebrows were studded with numerous piercing so much that there was little hair to speak of and his nose, squashed with nostrils too small so that when he breathed it came out in a high pitched whistle had a bullring through the septa.

The bloated 19 year old smirked at her, the other members backing him up, equally decked with jewellery and leather.

Akira, seeing she had no chance of beating the four of them, dropped her elbows and ducked beneath the surface. Watching her coins glitter as the sun beat down on them, she breast stroked as fast as she could to the other side. She pushed through the surface, sucking air into her lungs with relief.

She swung her leg over the edge, stood firm as Robbo the Hand; a shorter stubbier version of Needle dubbed so because of his talents with a knife, especially when it came to broad targets such as the back rumbled around from one side, and Bum, named for obvious reasons, bumbled around the other. Her blazing anger melted away at the comical scene. Needle actually thought he could catch her!

When she had shoes she was like a brumby through a race, but he wouldn't dare try something in the open.

"Come on Needle!" she sneered, making a few dancing feints as she waited for either of other boys reach her. The fountain stretched someway and now she was out of earshot of the markets. She faltered but kept her cocky grin, despite the fear mixing with her hunger. "I thought you more intelligent then- uhhh!"

A foot drove into the small of her back, digging in with pointy heels. She landed easily and rolled aside, a boot coming down where her sternum had been moments earlier with a loud thud. Ducky, the forth and last member, tall and skinny as a rail, had left his stance wide.

Akira felt cruel. She lashed out, her knuckles twisting into his hamstring. He yelped, lifting his foot slightly.

"Kiah!" Her elbow whirled knocking his legs further apart. Ducky's freckled face split into one of horror as he saw what was coming next. Akira's own twisted, her wicked grin revealing yellowy teeth with the guile of a tiger shark. She rolled backwards, her foot snapping up in a blur of motion and kicked the ball of her foot into his groin with all her strength.

The colour whooshed out of Ducky's face and his feet crumpled from under him.

"Shit!" Akira cried as his nobbled knees drove into her ribs and his whole body weight collapsed onto her tiny frame. Despite being as skinny as he was, Ducky was heavy enough to pin her down. As she struggled frantically to free herself from his limp body, his thin fingers wrapped around her wrist and squeezed, digging in his nails to relieve his own pain. She fought, blood trickling from her wrist but the throbbing was faint when she heard the clapping of leather boot heels closing in.

She felt a cold stab of fear as Bum's stubby build blocked the sunlight. She wasn't going to survive this beating with much of her body intact. That only made her panic. She knew she shouldn't but she was going to be ripped to shreds and more them likely eaten as an appetizer with the Fat Societies next Big Mac.

_Note to self, _she lamented, trying to lean over his shoulder and give Ducky's own hand a nasty bite. _Never take a cheap shot when you can't afford to pay it back later._

This referred to when they had chased her up a tree and tossed bean pods at them while taunting.

Ducky groaned as he was hauled to his feet and then dumped on the grass with a hoarse cry of indigence. She tried to roll and get out from under him but a heavy foot crashed onto her clavical. Her heart jumped, her ribs cracked and her air escaped in a raspy croak. Gasping, she tried to recover but her thoughts were in a twisting haze. She squinted up but the bulk of Needle eclipsed the sun.

"Told you, you were going to pay!"

"What kind of lame comeback is that?"

_Why oh why couldn't her mouth consult her brain before it opened!_

The foot pressed down harder and made it even more painful to breathe as he cocked back his ankle and pressed his heal below the sternum. The Fat Society jeered even louder at her groans of protest. She dug her nails viciously into the meat above Bum's ankle, tearing at the flesh. Bum cringed but it seemed he feared Needle's wrath more then any tendon damage she could do. For a split second she respected his face in the show of extreme pain.

Akira cursed, sucking in another strangled gulp. Her brief sprint for freedom had taken over a hill and out of plain sight. The city's bustle and childish screams rising up from the swimming fountains would drown out her own.

"Come on, get the bitch out of sight, then we can take our time!" Bum and Hand grabbed each arm and twisted them back on each other. Any struggle on her part would only result in a broken wrist, as she had quickly learned. Trying to calm her agitated thoughts, she walked between the two with Needle in front of her and Ducky hobbling behind her, whining under his breath.

The pressure was relieved from her wrist but was thrust through the sharp pine nettles into a small grove of trees, hidden from the eyes of the world. Silky oaks, pines and weeping figs formed a canopy above her head.

Again, she was shoved into the dirt and before she could even think, Needle stomped down on her wrist with such stunning force that as the loud crunch reached her ears she barely squeaked. The pain took her breath away. Akira choked on the air in her lungs, trying to force out some feeble sign of recognition. As her thoughts swooned, the dull ache of the boots pounding her ribs was barely acknowledged compared to the _throb, throb, throb _of her hand.

A large kick rolled her onto her side and came face to face with a used syringe.

_Great, _Akira mused, her thoughts drifting. _If I don't die now from internal bleeding, I will later from someone's heroin addiction._

Ducky's thin, drawn mug loomed in front of her face, grinning like a Halloween Jack-O-Lantern. His face twisted hideously and then he stomped on her hand with a cry of exultation. This time Akira screamed bloody murder. Her stomach heaved and the blood rushed from her head leaving her woozy. Nothing was left of her senses in the wake of the attack except for the all-consuming agony.

As she struggled for breath, anger and the need for revenge overwhelmed the pain. As she opened her eyes she became conscious of the sound of screams, and the fact that they weren't her own. Needle's gurgled yells of fear and torture were suddenly cut off by an _oomph _and a whimper muted by pride.

"Get out of here or I'll make you wish you had never been born."

"Fuck you!"

Something solid impacted on flesh followed by the sound of receding feet followed by raucous insults and threats. The Fat Society were gone leaving her with this new menace. Better the devil you know then the devil you don't. Squeezing her eyes shut against the pain of moving her crippled wrist, she wormed backwards sobbing quietly. She was hurt, scared and alone, a bad combination if ever there was one.

"They're gone," the stranger said offering his hand. It hung there motionless while she watched it, unbelieving.

"Jin?" she whispered.

In response her scooped her under the arms, handling her gingerly. Leaning against him, she cradled her wrist to her chest. He could feel her shivering as they crested the hill and wandered down the path towards the sounds of people and sat her gently on a bench. When he saw the young girl was comfortable, he spotted a vender and wandered over. He looked over the menu and thinking of her hungry eyes yesterday, he asked the portly vendor for a burger with everything.

"Do you know her," he asked him as he handed over the strange Australian currency he had taken from the thugs, much more than what Akira had lost to them.

"Yep, she comes round every now and again, ya know. Does a bit of busking, gets a coupla bucks and nicks it. She sometimes gets food off me, ya know."

"I know," Jin answered dryly, his brow creasing faintly as he tried to follow what the vendor said through his heavy accent and slang. "Did you see what happened just before?"

"The boys?" He fidgeted with embarrassment under his stern gaze, heavily cloaked despite the warmth of the day. "Yeah, they get her quite a bit. I, I can't do anything or they hassle me. I can't afford it, ya know? And here's your change."

"Thankyou." The vendor's shoulders sagged as he turned away, pocketing the change. Looking around and shielding his eyes against the sun he drew his shredded cloak closer to avoid any passerbyers glimpsing the bloody bandage and avoid any unnecessary attention. Luckily Asian tourists were a dime a dozen wandering around the suburb. He had ignored Akira's instructions and to his dismay had gotten lost.

While his homeland had the comforting press of the people around you, the Brisbane streets sprawled and its people distant from each other. In Tokyo, he had never felt alone; here he felt worlds away from all he knew.

You could imagine his relief when he saw Akira coming out of a little corner store. Before racing after her and begging for directions, to where he didn't know, he recalled her prescription of not moving too much and immediately scratched that thought. Its not that he was afraid of the little girl, it was just that she knew more than he would have liked. Heihatchi had a vast fortune at his finger tips and could afford to follow even the most tenuous of leads.

She had also looked ready to leap down someone's throat, shred his or her oesophagus and then eat it.

His genetic code had healed the wound while he slept so had woke up a little sore but bone the worse for wear.

After watching her perform, not the greatest singer he'd ever hear that was for sure, he'd watched the youths attack her just to see how she would react. She obviously had potential with her speedy moves and quick attacks but had been outweighed incredibly and dragged into the trees. Still hoping to see her escape, he only intervened when he had heard the scream.

He reached the bench, Akira had stopped shaking but rocked back and forth nursing her wrist. He offered the burger and her eyes bulged in their sockets at the meal before her, and then glared at him angrily.

"How exactly am I meant to eat it?" she growled looking pointedly at both hands. At that precise moment, her stomach gurgled loudly and Jin couldn't contain his laughter, not born out of any mirth but the need to expel the poisons the Devil had left behind. It burst out of him in soft chuckles. Akira's eyes hard gazed drilled into him and he stopped, trying to keep a straight face. She laid her hurt arm gently in her lap and then snatched the burger with a swift flick of her wrist, he barely noticed.

_I have to find out how she does that, _he thought, making a mental note as she stuffed a large mouthful in. He fought to keep from screwing up his nose in revulsion as she tried to cram more in with a churlish sucking sound. Catching his eye, with a regretful swallow, she slowed her eating pace. Shifting her weight to make herself more comfortable, she jostled her arm. Jin saw her try to keep back a gasp but she only choked on the hunk of half chewed beef she was clearly showing to the world. Afraid to pound her back, he let her recover on her own. When she did, she only gave a faint smile and went back to her food.

Jin stared at her amazed. "You really should see a doctor about that."

"Food first…Doctor later.," she muttered between gulps. Giving up on having a decent conversation with her, he waited till she was finished, signalled by a loud burp and the licking of the sauce off her fingers.

"Cheers to the chef," she said happily with a wave in the vendor's direction. Jin's expression of amazement deepened as Akira lay back with her eyes closed and her breaths falling into a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"You're sleeping?"

"As much as I'd like to, no. I'm thinking, whether I want to or not. I'm tryin' to figure out how some one the night before was on the brink of death and is now not only walking around but just kick the arses of the toughest, well biggest, gang this side of the wharf."

Akira's eye flew open and locked onto his with distrust, refusing to break eye contact. He swallowed hard trying to think of something, anything to stop this tiny little 16-year-old from staring at him like that.

"You have a fantastic voice," he intervened smoothly, efficiently foiling her next question. What's a little insincerity to keep a little publicity from reaching his grandfather. Her suspicion was replaced by her smug smile.

"Thanks! I don't remember most the songs but- HANG ON! YOU WERE WATCHING ME PERFORM!" she accused, jabbing a vicious finger at his chest. She winced as her other arm jostled.

"Um, yes?"

"That means you saw the Fat Society push me into the fountain!"

"Uh yes?'

"That means you saw them take me into the trees!"

"Ur yes?

"WRONG ANSWER, PRETTY BOY!" She slid closer to him on the bench, her eyes blazing in anger. He slid backwards brushing the stray locks of hair back nervously. Again, he wasn't afraid but it wouldn't look good to an officer if he tried any moves on a crippled, little homeless girl.

"THAT MEANS YOU WERE WATCHING ME GET BEATEN INTO A BLOODY PULP!"

"Yes! No!"

"DO YOU LIKE TO SEE PEOPLE SUFFER!"

"No!" All the time she kept descending on him like a tiger on its prey. His heart was rising in his chest. _She's_ _just a kid! _His logic screamed. _Don't be afraid! _

"DID YOU LIKE SEEING ME SUFFER!"

"No!"_ Be afraid, be very afraid._

"Because if you like suffering, I WILL GIVE YOU SUFFERING!" Hissing and spitting she gave him a final shove and he fell of the edge of the seat with a surprised yelp, onto his back. She hovered over him, her hair in total disarray, blood smeared over her cloths and her face twisted into a hideous snarl, her ire a tangible thing like an aura about her. At that moment, it was her that looked the devil and not him.

"_And I _will_ make you suffer!"_


	4. Down the Line

**When Lightning Strikes Twice**

**Part 4**

_Down the Line_

Jin had come to admire the girl. After the park, he had taken her to a private surgery, bitching all the way until he had to bribe her with a hotdog to get her inside. She hissed she didn't have the money to pay be he assured her he had. She tried to escape again, vowing she didn't want his money and after a moment of being torn in two, threw her hotdog at him.

There she had her wrist bound as it was not broken, just a few fingers that would heal fine. He was glad he wasn't the one to tell her not to use them for a month, he had hear her explode at the doctor with a shrill barrage. Finally she came out seething, but quiet. He paid the receptionist with his own funds he had retrieved from an ATM, a long and complicated manoeuvre that kept his identity hidden, and guided her through the door as quickly as he dared.

The female doctor watched them leave with mild amusement.

After following Akira back to the warehouse her dark glares deepened when she realised she couldn't reach her loft. Akira flopped down beside the burnt out fire she had lit last night. Jin knelt opposite, setting down the containers of Chinese Food he had also bought with the money. Sitting up sniffing, she didn't so much as eat it as massacre it. Crumbs _flew._

Jin wasn't hungry and instead bowed his head in thought, pondering his predicament and how he could use it.

The positives were he was in a cosmopolitan city where he could be lost amongst the population. Heihatchi's interests in Australia were negligible, they didn't want his weapons and he didn't want their ugg boots. He had pursued genetic development here and New Zealand but they had petered out once he realised splicing his DNA wasn't the answer.

He had an unlimited cash flow so he didn't need to work as such. Being captain of Heihatchi's private army as it travelled the world had its benefits and it had its own special accounts. Neither did his grandfather have any interest in overseeing the accounts so if he managed what he took carefully he would not find him. It wasn't like the men he had lead would save for a rainy day when they were working for one of the richest and most influential men of the era, and didn't look like he was dying anytime soon.

There was of course his own account, one he had set up in secret soon after his mother disappeared. It had a lump sum he could establish himself with until he could act.

_Establish myself,_ he mused, gazing up at the rickety roof, smiling into space. It was perfect and he could still _pretend_ he had connections…

The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

"Akira."

"Mwah?" she said threw a mouthful of sweet and sour pork. She wore a ring of sauce like lipstick but she licked it off unselfconsciously.

"I- I am in hiding."

"Yahah?" She continued to dig into the container with archaeological application and not looking up.

"I have wealth," he persisted, watching the fork with mild irritation, "and I would like to set up a Dojo."

"That's nice."

"Here."

The fork froze and she finally looked up, wiping the sauce away with the back of her hand.

"Are you kidding?" she coughed, her oriental eyes bugging comically as she thumped her chest to work down an accidental bite. "This is government property! They are the stingiest buggers alive! And here? On the wharves? With these thin walls? I could kick my way out!"

Jin remained dead serious. "I won't kick you out if that's what you're thinking. You could be-" he trailed off. What on earth did he need her for? He couldn't let her go off after what she had seen but if he could win her loyalty... "A student," he finished lamely but her ears perked.

"You mean like _really_?" she breathed with delight.

"Yes," he went on with relief, letting his imagination get away from him. "I could be a mentor. You could go back to school, you wouldn't have to worry about money-"

The light of excitement in her eyes suddenly extinguished and narrowed. "I am not a charity case!" she hissed venomously, throwing down the container letting the remaining rice scatter through the charred crate and shoving herself to her feet to stalk away. Jin climbed up to his feet, leaping over the charcoal and gripped her shoulder. She whirled around but he deflected the elbow with ease, throwing her around in a circle with the extra momentum, he caught her before she stumbled over a crate dizzily.

"I am _not_ doing this out of pity," he whispered into her ear. "I can't let you go!"

Akira swallowed thickly, her eyes still narrowed but now in consideration. "I don't know anything, I have a memory like a sieve," she pronounced in a slow, toneless voice, stepping away from him.

"It is a chance I cannot take. I will employ you as a maid, tidy up after me, cook- uh, or wash up, if it makes you feel better."

After a moment, she said in a dejected whisper, "Okay." She felt like she had been bought. She raked her fingers through her hair and sat limply on a crate, letting her arms dangle between her legs as she slumped.

"Don't be that way, Akira," Jin pleaded. "I owe you much more than shelter. I owe you my life."

She licked her lips nervously. She had. This was just…. Tit for tat.

"Okay."

"I will begin arrangements this afternoon."

"You're too tense, Ki, relax and let yourself flow."

"I am relaxed, I am flowing! Besides, you're the one who should be watching himself, I'm gonna send you for a loop!"

Akira shifted her weight to the back leg of her cat stance effortlessly. Jin noted her improvement and concentrated one her hands. They weaved in front of his eyes in intricate patterns, distracting him despite knowing her wily tricks. In and out, up and down they swirled. But he could watch only one thing at a time, her flourishing hands with their quick and graceful movements, or her muscular, flexible legs, able to land a blow to the head of even her tallest opponents and even easier to swoop down and take his legs from under him.

Seizing the gap in her delicate gestures, he lunged out, his fist pistoning up from his waist. His eyes widened as that supposed gap in her defence disappeared and her forearm met his flicking it upwards and missing her head by millimetres. Dangerously overbalanced, he fought to keep his guard up but Akira, an opportunist at heart, twisted beneath his body. Her own small fist hit his paunch and twisted the bare skin, twisting under her own arm and out of his way like a corkscrew. He grunted forcing himself upright but she seized the moment to duplicate the attack.

Bewildered by her new technique, he had barely enough time to roll aside before a cartwheel stomp landed beside his head. Snarling in frustration, Akira chopped at his legs with shin kicks and thigh kicks, each aiming for the perineal tendon behind his knee. Her rash thinking left her whole right side open as one fist dropped for balance. Not letting his obvious victory show through his expression, he kept sidestepping and blocking the flurry of kicks the smaller martial artist threw, signs of fatigue showing through.

Since that afternoon almost three years, Jin had taken Akira under his wing as his own student and friend. She was a comfort he hadn't expected.

Akira had gone back to school after almost a year and a half on the street and he had built on her own natural talents with his mother's teachings.

He had bought this warehouse and the one next to it from the government using the Mishima name and hints of malice to close the deal, swearing that if the man was ever mentioned this transaction in any conversation ever again he would get what was coming to him. Jin loathed stooping to such low tactics but it was a necessity.

Within weeks the warehouses had been smashed down by a contractor and rebuilt over it. The dojo took up the greater amount of space with small living quarters at the back. At Akira's request he had also had her hideyhole rebuilt properly with sturdy support beams and a safe ladder leading up to her room.

The dojo itself was low key, still trying to appear a dilapidated warehouse from the outside with high walls and plated with corrugated iron so not to attract attention. He couldn't have asked for a more concealed place. Warehouses lined it on all sides, screening it from the view of the marina and the populace.

He kept it clean and tidy, the equipment in top condition despite its constant use, and its only student working hard.

As soon as Akira was well enough to remove her wraps, she had badgered him into teaching her what he knew of the complex martial arts. He agreed, tutoring her only Jun's traditional Kazama Self Defence, to which the quick agile girl in similar build adapted far better then he could ever dreamed, out mastering him in that effect at least. She also introduced her own kicks, punches and wicked hand tricks so easily confusing her opponent.

The girl had a natural talent for martial arts, but as if to balance the girl was naturally unfit, even after three years she would puff and pant and struggle if any sparring was drawn out.

In those years she had also returned to school with forged papers, stating himself as her older brother and guardian, and had graduated, excelling in biology. For the past eight months she attended St Lucia University. She hadn't got the marks she wanted to be a veterinarian but still managed to scrape through with a course in mammalian anatomy and physiology.

He wasn't surprised as she constantly begged him for a camping trip in the Bunya Mountains so she could study the wildlife. She even kept a feather collection in her room.

Jin had kept his thoughts and doubts at bay for all the busy weeks sorting through the tangle of Akira and the dojo, but when he finally had enough time to mull over the betrayal of his grandfather Heihatchi, the only one he had ever trusted since his mother, he fell into a brooding silence for days. He avoided Akira realising just what a danger it was to have her so close. The night he had stumbled into the warehouse was a little hazy, halfway between transformations, but he could clearly remember the bloodlust as she stood before him with broomstick raised.

Finally he reached the conclusion, any of the Mishima clan was a thing of evil, to be shunned and hated and vowed to train out the Mishima style fighting he had learned from his grandfather and turned to its traditional cousin.

A sharp kick to his floating ribs jolted Jin from his reverie and a jab connecting with his jaw followed immediately by a right hook sent him reeling. As he leapt at her with his fist cocked, she ducked under it with a playful smirk. Irritated by her smug expression, he ripped at her with a round house to the head. She ducked out of reach again and caught his foot on the way down, twisting it into a lock.

Jin grunted, bending to her will but still well guarded.

"Give?" she prodded happily, a dark olive cheeks flushed with perspiration.

"No."

"Huh?"

Suddenly he leapt off the ground with his remaining foot and kicked into the square of her jaw. She dropped his leg and crashed into the ground while he landed a little unsteadily on both legs.

"How the hell did you do that?" she groaned from the floor after a minute or two. Jin rolled his eyes and helped her up carefully as she would likely attack again.

_Akira is too stubborn for her own good,_ he mused. Living with her had brought to fore all the faults people who live together find out. She quickly became angry and frustrated when things didn't go her way and was very stubborn in her opinions. She was judgemental and was always fumbling the blame on someone else, _those_ people. She also refused help, somewhere in her childhood she had decided that asking for help, _receiving_ help,was a sign of weakness. She would snap and snarl until she could do it herself, even if it was physically impossible for her to do so; like when she shifted her few possessions into her room.

She leaned against the dojo walls, muttering and glaring viciously at him. When he smiled amused, she only glared more.

"Can't you every just lose graciously for a change?" she growled, flexing her jaw, still wheezing. "I mean three years I've known you, two years you've trained me, at least a year I've been able to spar you, for once can't you let me win and give me a tiny boost of confidence?"

"That's a boost of confidence you don't need!" Jin laughed softly and Akira's tantrum subsided a little with a wistful expression for a fleeting second. "Your ego is already large enough to rival many I've seen," Jin paused, thinking of the blonde haired American fighter, Paul. "And I've seen many."

Akira snorted indifferent to his quiet lapse and folded her arms. "I'd still like to know how you were able to throw your whole weight in the air like that. And how much pressure did you put on your leg? Damnit! I hate you."

"You've been saying that for three years," Jin pointed out as he slipped behind a screen to change from his sweaty gi.

Akira politely turned around. "Because you've been beating me for three years!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. From behind the screen, he saw her silhouette begin to pace, another of her habits when she was worked up. Jin had been trying to train out the impatient streak she had, and had managed to work it down to a sliver. It often made itself known during a fight and any other time she was more then happy to vent her frustration in many queer ways.

Finally he pulled on a loose, short sleaved jacket, leaving it open. Coming from behind the screen, he tapped her shoulder. Akira rocketed into the air with a startled yelp and let loose an elbow aimed at jaw height, her jaw height so it only reached his chest and by that time she realised it was him so it only thumped weakly against him.

"And I hate you when you're silent!" she yelled into his face.

"You've been saying that too."

"I hate you," she rolled her eyes in exasperation, knowing how futile it was to argue with him. She looked him up and down and tried to scowl. "And you know I hate that costume. That's what it is you know! You look like some giant court jester!"

"My, my, my! Aren't we spiteful today!" he murmured, slipping into his native tongue. He looked down and realised she was right. One pant leg was black to the knee, and white to his ankles. The other was white to the knee and black to the ankles. Also, the vertically opposite sides of his jacket corresponded. All complete with hood, as was all his clothing. She had once commented he looked like a conman running from the law, an irony if ever there was one.

"And don't go Japanese-zee on me! I may not be able to understand everything but I get the gist of it!" She returned to her usual, watchful demeanor, her eyes trailing after him as he shook himself out, warming down with the tenseness melting out of his muscles.

"Besides," Jin smiled. "When did you become the fashion police?" He made a show of looking disdainfully at her clothing.

Akira's clothing were distinctly tomboyish, choosing for herself only knee length shorts and baggy shirts. She had filled out some with regular feeding and now almost looked her age but was still disdainful of her peers fashion statements, which generally involved flesh and lots of it. Showing her skin always made her a little uncomfortable, she had explained with discomfort, even if she had lived in Australia for the majority of her life.

"Tu shay." She wrinkled her nose at him. "You should shower after training."

Since rejoining the population with homes her world view had become very food and bathing orientated. He wondered just how much she spent on soap as hers always seemed whittled away to slimy sliver.

"I will, I just have a little bit of work to do. I'm going into the backroom so…."

"Don't bother me," she finished, mocking his stern expression. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's like being with my family again," she smiled wanely, she visited them at Christmas but here was home. "You're so paranoid. I'm surprised you let me go out at night."

"That's because I trust you to take care of yourself but not to keep your hands out of my privacy. Where do you go at night?"

"That's my business," she said, turning serious, strolling after him in her own warm down. Her arms moved in slow blocking X's, up and down with her eyes half closed, then turning her hips, calves and feet.

"Well, have your shower and get going, Claude will be furious if you're late for work again." He smiled fondly. He had not secluded himself from the world like he planned, first meeting Claude and Aristos when he went to apologise for Akira's absence. The two were warm, friendly and hilarious contrasts. He had then followed Akira to the Tai Chi held in the park and eventually meeting her friends from University who had spent most the time eyeing him up, much to his and Akira's embarrassment.

"Don't know why, I'm just a labourer in the back."

"You?" he exclaimed with laugher, lifting one of her small arms.

"Hey! You've seen how much damage they can do!"

"Go!" Jin whirled her around and gave her a gentle shove towards the bathroom, before she could protest further.

_Thankyou very much you guys. _

_Ice Phoenix, your praise makes me blush. I love writing WLST again. I love writing martial arts scenes which I can't weasel into my other fictions._

_Lady Wolfbane, as a reader you are much appreciated too. I was actually considering cutting out that bit because it was so Mary-Sue. I'm glad it was liked anyway._

_MysticSuperSaiyanGohan, mwahahaha! That's for me to know and you to find out. I do know that Angel will play a huge part by the end, along with the devils.  
Thanks again, enjoy!_


	5. Blissful Disfunction

**When Lightning Strikes Twice**

**Part 5**

_Blissful Dysfunction_

Akira leaned on the counter, starring into the distance. Today she worked under the watchful eye of Aristos with his daughter. Cassie at that moment was shuffling softdrink bottles from the back to the fridge. Business always ebbed around 1 o'clock and she had a lecture on the liver at three. She would only have a few minutes to race home, change and catch the bus to the St Lucia campus.

She smiled dreamily at the word. _Home,_ she mused.

Life was perfect. She had never knew anyone's life anywhere could be perfect but it seemed she had found it. University was challenging but she ate up her lectures hungrily, she had a goal and she was inching closer. After so long she could now challenge Jin in sparring and she took enormous pride in what she had achieved in three short years and work was monotonous so she could just drift away.

It was enough to make you believe in karma again.

And she had Jin to thank for it.

He gave her shelter, he paid for her education, he gave her back her self esteem. She had fought against his help, insisting she didn't need it when inside she wanted to do something stupidly meaningful, like when a child scrawls a Mothers Day card and uses too much glitter.

When she introduced him to her friends they had inquired just what was their relationship, oogling him like they were undressing him with their eyes. The question was there to determine just how _available _he was, which was embarrassing. She had said flippantly, "Lyn? Cousin's friend from Japan. He was living down here and knew I was looking for a place to stay."

The lie was there for a reason. Instead of _older sibling_ she had written down on the many documents, having him as a relative could prove embarrassing later on.

The reason was that there was no denying he was a _looker_, and it was painfully clear when the two sparred. Sometimes as she sat on the dojo floor with scientific journals sprawled around her she would look up and watch Jin train, his well developed muscles rippling with each smooth, graceful kata movement, the thin strands that would hang roguishly in front of his face that had a look of serenity as he gazed into the distance.

Luckily she had two things going for her, one was that she was a brilliant actor and two, had full brain function.

If he paused between kata and offer a vaguely anxious smile, her heart would melt and skin tingle, she would only snort and roll her eyes, with a smart alec comment.

Her face, although fine featured was a little too round and the nose was kind of crooked from a bout that got too enthusiastic. She was bony, and her hair, no matter how much care took to look nice, would still be lank and lifeless.

And her skin was too dark. She knew the colour of her skin meant nothing to Australians, they thought a tan was healthy, the idiots. But Jin was Japanese, white skin was a sign of purity. That was why her mother had been an outcast, and her father had married her because he was pressured by their grandparents once they found out he had slept with her. He always said he looked just like her. Her skin was too dark.

He had no interest in her except perhaps as the sister she had pretended to be.

She convinced herself it was just a teenage crush on a bloke who had been so good to her.

Even then she could neve decide he was being so wonderful simply because she knew his _secret_.

That night had faded in her mind, something was acting on her memories leaving a lead heavy dread in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about it. Only when she put her mind to it could she remember what the secret was, and to be honest she never did. It was better to remember it as vivid imagination.

Still, it was depressing to think he could be acting too.

_But could anyone be that brilliant?_

She hoped not.

Fifteen minutes later, Jin sat down at a desk. Both he and Akira used the computer but Akira had no patience with it. Only for assignments would grumbling sit down to use its word programs and internet for research.

Unplugging the simple American keyboard he reached down into the bottom draw and found an expensive keyboard with Japanese characters. He bought it partly to keep Akira from prying too far and partly to gain the information from his agents located in various parts of the Mishima household staff. He needn't worry about the expenses, it all came from Heihatchi's business account and he knew the old man wouldn't miss a cent of it. He was intent on finding his grandson, not to apologise or beg forgiveness, but to dissect him and find the secret of the Devil gene so that he could splice Ogre's DNA with his own.

He typed in a dozen passwords, scanned through every folder for bugs or viruses and once he was positive he was secure, he checked his emails. After five minutes of filtering, he received two small emails. The first was a reply from The Kitten with the Beautiful Eyes.

He smiled with a sad longing for her bright smile and aerobatic antics. After an email from his agents, he learnt of a plot of which the effervescent Xiaoyu's life was the focus. After much searching, he found her email address and sent her a carefully worded latter, warning her.

He quickly skimmed through the email. It was thankful and heartfelt, even somewhat personal. He smiled softly. She knew, or at least suspected it was him. He wished he could reply and tell her he was fine, but she had she avoided the threat and the Mishima personal army would be suspicious of the elusion of their carefully manipulated plan. Not wanting to delete the message, he coded it and hid it in a secure folder.

The second email was from one of his most highly placed agents, one privy to some of Heihatchi's deepest darkest plans. Again he filtered the email, when he was safe, he opened it. There was nothing written in the text box, which was unusual as Tecuma was always gave a detailed report, meticulous to the finest detail. This one only held an attachment. He double clicked the icon and gasped.

It was a large, blurred and one could barely make out the Japanese scrawling, but nothing else but the poorly scanned picture existed in his mind.

A flyer.

On it was the brightly coloured logo of the World Iron Fist Tournament IV. Jin studied the logo with disbelief. Sure, previous messages had certainly entertained the idea since Heihatchi's discovery of the charred body of his father, Kazuya, but now that the tournament was imminent, it sent his mind reeling with possibilities, with half devised plans, with hope.

Jin magnified and sharpened the image. In Japanese characters below a rather airbrushed picture of Heihatchi's face was a Date, a Location, a Prize.

Three weeks from now, Honmaru Island, and the Mishima Empire.

In less then a week, the strongest fighters of every style, race and nation would be using every means possible to get to Honmaru Island, the home of Heihatchi, the home of the Iron Fist Tournament.

Jin stood up abruptly, ignoring the still open files. This was too much! He had spent too much time training Akira rather then himself. Other then learning traditional Karate and beating out every shred of Mishima in him, he was unprepared. He was still in shape but was he good enough for the tournament? He glanced at the flyer again.

The martial artists of the world would decide.

He shut down all the programs with little heed to security and strode out of the room, planning and divining a way to get inside the tournament without being recognised straight away. All his clothing had hoods, maybe he could use them as a disguise. He had the money for a flight that could be there within hours……

He would do it. He had to pack. Clothing, food, for he certainly wasn't eating anything that was served in Heihatchi's household, and money, well, he needn't worry about that. He could be reunited with Xiaoyu, to hear her voice, touch her skin…

"Gah! Late! Late! Late!" Akira blew past in a whirlwind of motion. She scurried up the wooden beams, that still wove between the supporting beams, snatched her schoolbag from her loft and scurried back down in a matter of seconds. Leaping down from the last spar, she landed at his feet and stood up straight.

"Wasup? You look like a thundercloud, all rumble, rumble, brood, brood?" The young girl flashed a dazzling smile.

Jin froze, unsure of what to do of say. Finally he managed, "You'll be late."

With a groan, Akira nodded and bolted out the door, her perpetually scruffy hair streaming behind her.

Jin's eyes followed her out the door and when she ran out of sight, he murmured sadly. "Akira……."

Later that evening he and Akira sat down to a dinner of rice, fish and various side dishes within the comfort of Jin's living room. The small, cosily lit room did little to calm his nerves. His thoughts raced, as he knew a decision had to be made soon, and only pushed the food moodily around his plate. Somehow he couldn't meet her eyes.

Akira, kneeling opposite him on the other hand, was perfectly at ease. She ate her food slowly, savouring its taste but still held the fork so that it could be used as a weapon, and her other hand cupped around the bowl so it was thoroughly guarded. _Old habits die_ _hard_, she often laughed. With her focus squarely on her food, she didn't notice any of his uncomfortableness.

"Done!" she chirped happily. She was in an unusually good mood. As he stood to clear the table, she waved him to sit down again.

"I think I've had the _perfect_ day! Aristos left me in charge of the register. It's so easy! They left and I tended the customers. None of them were any trouble. The lecturer was late so I didn't miss anything. I passed that stupid assignment, y'know the dodgy one I didn't understand? Only by the skin of my teeth but I did it! So me and Cass hooked it and hung around the shops. Of course Cass drooled over every clothing store but a new sports shop opened. Man! They have everything, from bags to mats to katana's to gi's! Oh there was this awesome gi too!"

As she chattered incoherently, she washed, dried and put away the cooking and eating utensils. After hanging up the frypan, she knelt opposite him.

"So what's got _your _knickers in a knot, Jinnyboy? I know I'm not the princess of pep but something's up."

"Oh nothing," he reassured, though silently rebuking himself. "Just reflecting on life and the winds that have blown to me."

"You're too philosophical," she said, slipping back into her usual dry humour. "But I'm not going to let that spoil it. Man, I even feel like sparing. Gowan! Give me a task, betcha I can do it!"

_Your__ not making this any easier on me, Kira, _he thought dolefully, but forced a smile and said, "Ok, Ki new exercise. Go outside, forget the formalities tonight, just start warming up and stretch well, you going to need it. Get your joey off the rack too."

She bowed with a cocky grin.

"Korusan Sensei," she piped and walked as quickly as good manners and dojo etiquette would allow. Once she was out of sight, he rested his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. How could the decision have become so complicated? He mulled various solutions over and over, but came to no definite outcome. Time past and he realised Akira would be almost done with her warmup and starting on stretches, he had best get to it because if he actually went through with it, it would take a lot more then simple teachings.

He punched through his pushups, situps and various other exercises far more efficiently then Akira's slow pace and was almost through his own stretches once his student was standing over him, her joey behind her as etiquette dictated. The look on her face suggested keen desire to either get started or put weighs on his back to make it harder for him.

He stood up and looked her over. Her expression was set in a determined frown, her hand clenched around her weapon, the same stick that had almost killed him three years ago. It was sanded down and cut to a precise length a joey should be and had a scrap of blue material tied to one end, which Akira also used for good measure.

"First, rest your bow on the far wall of the dojo." He waited until she was done and continued on. "Your challenge is this, say your walking through the park, its dark-"

"Why am I walking through the park at dark?" she asked sweetly, though one could tell she was mocking him.

"Because it's a beautiful night," he answered patiently at one of her old games. "You hear a rustling in the bushes."

"Is it a possum?"

"No. You turn just in time to see a large man charge at you-"

"Why's he charging at me?"

"He wants your purse-"

"I don't have a purse."

"Then he's trying to rape you."

"Me?"

"Yes! You have to escape the lock, run, find a weapon, your joey, and defeat him, understand?"

"Yes Sensei," she answered with a sly smile and when he thought she could finally hold her tongue, she snorted, "You know you could have just said get out of a lock and beat your too a pulp. You really don't need to paint a picture." She waved her hand insolently and turned her back. "You and your senari-ohhh!"

Jin lunged forward and grabbed her round the middle, pinning her arms to her body and lifting her feet off the ground.

"Go!" he whispered into her ear.

"NOT FAIR!"

_Aww__, once again Ice Phoenix, my cheeks are aglow. Your praise is so welcome, and if you're looking for quicker updates, Akira has her own site (have I mentioned this? www. Just remove the spaces and no worries. I've actually written out about nine chapters, but don't post here often._

_It should also be noted, that Thai's are very appearance orientated. My friend Suma who went back to Thailand last year told me of a woman, even showed me a picture. I thought she was very beautiful by western standards, but apparently people shun her for her darks skin. Thought I'd go for realism. Ha. Realism._

_Hooroo, till next time! All reviews and reviewers thus far are appreciated!_


	6. You'll Be In My Heart

**When Lightning Strikes Twice**

**Part 6**

_You'll Be in My Heart_

More then a good deal later, Akira panted heavily, trying to keep her guard up but her arms kept drooping despite her resolution to win not matter what. She glared, leaning her weight on her back leg, poised for an attack. Her cat stance was as sloppy as her defence but she refused to give up.

"Come on Kira, you haven't even made it to the wall yet," Jin chided, though in not much better shape. He sweated profusely but years of discipline made him control his breathing and keep his hands up. A thick strand of hair fell into his eyes, dripping perspiration. As he moved his hand to sweep it back behind his ear, Akira flew at him, delivering a sharp Muay Thai kick to his floating rib and then another kick, driving his knee inward. In quick succession, she launched half a dozen kicks to all parts of his body. Like his mother, her combinations were almost impossible to block and hopeless to try and attack through it. All he could do was take each hit as it came and then attack as she drew back, leaving herself open to any devastating blow.

He was trying his hardest and Akira was pushing herself to her limit. It meant either two things, unsure of which was worse. Either he had become lax in his training or that Akira was almost as good as himself and one day might surpass him in the years to come.

He studied his student as she rained down on him, her face twisted into such conviction that he discarded the first. She was running on pure adrenaline only. Her final blow was a head height roundhouse. He could only deflect it, sending it smashing into his shoulder and a shockwave coursing through his limb. He stumbled backwards and she darted forward with a flip. One of Jin's earlier snap kicks hindered her and as her feet slapped against the concrete floor, her rasping breath echoed through out the dojo. As she landed, Jin's feet flew past and tripped her.

He winced as she hit the floor.

Not wishing to continue, he stepped backwards. "That's enough for tonight," he said softly, yet firmly.

"No!" she moaned and began to stand up again. He stepped forward and swept one of her hands out and she slumped to the floor again with a grunt. She rolled out of the way and came to her feet, panting hard, face blank. At least she had kept some wits about her and not lost her temper.

He held up his hands and stared her down. "I give, a martial artist knows when he has reached his limits."

"But you're perfectly fine!"

"But you are not! You're hotheaded, you're stubborn and you would have kept going to the point of collapse. Your arrogance will get you killed. That's why _I_ had to step down," he scolded in a level voice, but Akira's eyes dropped to the floor. She knew he was angry and disappointed in her. "Now shower, dress and go to bed. Think of all those times you could have retrieved your bow and defeated me easily instead of fighting on!"

His student bowed and moved hurriedly out of his stern gaze. He stood stock still, until he heard the water running.

Jin sighed loudly and shook off some of the tenseness that gripped his limbs. Seeing a sand bag, he decided he was too worked up to go to sleep. His thoughts flowed easily while he trained, he often found. He approached the bag with long fluid steps, weaving around the bag as if it were a challenger, throwing strong straight jabs before ducking away. He was glad Akira wasn't watching him or she would have laughed at him.

He slipped into a rhythm and reflected on tonight's lesson. Though he was disheartened at Akira's lapse in sense, he had analysed his own style and found that instead of lagging in his training, it had improved a hundred fold. His punches sharp, his holds perfect and his kicks without flaw. Through making Akira reach her full potential, he had to enhance his own skills to make a point.

This was no mere self-indulgence it was only truth.

He was without a doubt he could stand his ground within the Tournament, but his mind still ran the heated argument in his head.

_It would be the perfect opportunity to revenge yourself against Heihatchi_! argued one side.

_But revenge is the last resort of the incompetent,_ answered the other.

_The Mishima bloodline must be obliterated, or more pain will follow,_ cried the first voice

_It is not of your concern. Your life has been wrought with evil, let it be!_ Rebutted the second briskly and then adding, _What of Akira?_

_What about her? Tonight she proved she didn't listen to any of your teachings. She flaunted your advice!_

_Prove? All it proved is that she still has much to learn and needs you to guide her._

Seeing a point lost, his first voice slipped tactics. _While you fought, you saw she was well on her way to greatness, isn't it best she nurture her own skills, with you she suppresses them to learn martial arts that don't fit her. She will be great, and if you are worthy, and she is worthy, fate will have you meet again._

He paused in his dance as behind him across the other side of the dojo, Akira cleared her throat.

"'G'night Jin. You were right, I shouldn't have lost my temper." Her voice was chilly, like she was really just apologising to keep the peace but he could hear it tinged with guilt.

Jin turned to face her, mildly surprised. It was as close to an apology that would pass her lips, but he understood.

"It's okay, 'Kira. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Just don't do it again." It felt wrong. He wasn't lying, but he was pretending there would be a next time.

She shrivelled her nose. "Too philosophical, night."

Her shadowy form nodded and she climbed the steps up to her hidden loft, where she would rest her eyes until the night darkened and she would slip through a skylight to who knows where. She didn't do it often, just when she felt a little stressed or needed to think, so he let her. Those thugs, the Fat Society, were little more than a warm up these days.

_If you are worthy, and she is worthy, fate will have you meet again, _his mind echoed. Suddenly he whirled around, nothing but a blur of black and white, and drove a sharply honed kick into the bag. It burst violently and the sand spilled out in a cascade.

He would do it. In two days he would be on a plane for the Honmaru, and leave this life behind him. It was only just a dream anyway. Fate didn't want him to be happy for too long.

Jin stood, two days later, at the bottom of Akira's loft holding a neatly hand written envelope addressed to her and a paper package under his arm. He looked up and sighed, a sound full of regret.

Minutes earlier he had heard Akira leave through a skylight. Even she admitted it was a tricky climb but she liked to be up high. She thought it was fun that she might miss one of the roofs beams and plunge head first into the dojo floor. She would be back until early morning, maybe even dawn because it was a Sunday.

He had no idea where she was and for the first time, wished he did. He had never worried before, he just wanted to see her one last time. She was a sweet little thing, beneath the scowls and snappy remarks.

Jin had spent most of the time organising everything so that when he left, she would be as comfortable as possible. He had signed the deed of the Dojo over to her, paying water and electricity bills in advance and left coded instructions in the letter on how to access Heihatchi's accounts secretly, also the passwords to all but a few files of the computer.

Now it was time and he didn't want to go. He had been happier in these past few years then he had since his mother had died and leaving behind the little sister he never had, and until now, never wanted. She had come from nowhere and changed his entire view of the world with the speed of a cyclone, could he really leave?

_Your__ only prolonging the inevitable_, he chided himself. _Lingering only makes it worse._

Agreeing with the logical voice, he leaned the package against a support beam and the envelope on top of it. He stepped back, making sure she wouldn't miss it and gazed around the room.

An empty warehouse into a Dojo, a ramshackle old building into a home.

"Goodbye," he said, barely above a whisper, and listened to it fade behind him. Hefting two small travel bags over his shoulder, holding a few, treasured possessions, he disappeared into the night.

Akira slipped through a loose skylight and onto a beam below. She flung her arms wide to balance and steady herself. When she was stable, she sat down carefully and let her legs swing back and forth as she sank into contemplation. Dawns rosy glow drifted slowly in, though not enough to see more then the outline of her loft on the other side.

She yawned, beat out of her mind. What Jin didn't know was that her midnight excursions were to the park, sometimes looking for trouble so she could beat the crap out of it without a conscience, but mostly just practicing, and thinking and gazing at the moon. There were times when she even fell asleep and only awoke to the smoggy sunrise creeping through the high rise buildings.

She attributed her fast progression to these random training sessions. Jin thought she was talented, but it took every ounce of concentration to be as good as she was. When she trained with Jin she got so flustered and frustrated when she didn't get it right, here she could slow down and go at her own pace. Perfect practice makes perfect.

_But not good enough, _her mind sneered. _Jin's right, you don't have what it takes_.

"Shut up," she muttered to herself, then smiled amused. "Nutcase."

Scanning the dojo, her eye caught a dark blotch beneath her loft. Her curiosity overriding caution, she shimmied down a shaft, quietly so not to wake Jin. The wood creaked loudly, and she winced.

"Hell, he'll be up soon anyway." It suddenly came to her that he should have been up now. If she did fall asleep he would usually would be leaning against the archway that led to his personal quarters, his mouth set in disapproval but a sparkle in his eye letting her know that the kettle was on the boil and a light breakfast ready in a little while.

_Maybe he's sleeping in. He was training like a madman when you left. _She still frowned. Jin never slept in, never. With a sense of urgency, scurried across the beams until she reached the last jump. She couldn't just leap straight to her room like she had hoped when it was built but instead had to settle on a beam further down and use it to get to the stairs.

With panic beginning to stir in her stomach she forgot about the staircase and squirmed down the beams, dropping the last few metres in her haste to the floor. Bolts of pain shot up her heels with the impact but she tried to put it aside. She was torn between searching his quarters and the shadow beneath her loft.

Akira snarled in frustration, her instinct was crying out, _Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!_ Suddenly she recognised this as that other voice, the one that wasn't quite her own that had spoke three years ago. It hadn't made a peep since.

She spat a string of curse words and raced for the blotch. She got there and as she it up something fluttering to the ground. After a moment of fumbling in the gloom, she finally held it in nimble fingers and judged it to be an envelope.

Glancing morosely at the dark, she pressed the small present beneath her arm and held tightly to the envelope, picking her way between the training equipment till she passed through the arch and flung the package onto the shadow of the table, heedless of whether it was breakable, and snapped on a light.

Squeezing her eyes shut and waiting to adjust to the sudden brightness, her mind flickered to what it could contain. Months earlier she had convinced him to see a movie. It involved the protagonist's girl being taken hostage and in a letter it told him how much money had to be taken to a certain place or otherwise her throat was cut.

Akira shivered. She had a few dollars hidden away in her loft, but if this was a ransom note, she doubted she could pay it.

Or maybe it was a letter bomb or had some deadly bacteria in it? Jin was hiding from somebody, she knew that for certain. Maybe they had found him!

She gave herself a mental slap. _You're being stupid! Just open it!_

She rattled though the draws of the kitchen till she found a knife and slit it open carefully. When she didn't explode, she found an intricately folded letter with,

_Akira_

scribed in Jin's slanted calligraphy. Akira laughed shakily. Her anxiety had been unfounded and it seemed petty now, but something still in the back of her brain held onto that uncertainty. Again she scolded herself, she fiddled with the paper until it was neatly spread.

Akira sat on an oaken chair with the letter, her chin resting in her palm. Flipping her fringe out of her face she began to read

My dear Akira

First know that these years I have spent here are incomparable and above all others. I can almost see your sceptical expression on that pert face of yours and I smile. By no means think that my leaving has anything to do with you. I'm sure you have suspected for a long time that I was in hiding and it is now time for me to emerge and finish what started three blissful years ago on a night of pain horror and betrayal.

In light of this I have secured your place in the world. The dojo is now yours, the deed is on my pallet. Electricity and water have been paid in advance and I have left clear instructions on how to withdraw money from an account of a friends. Do not worry, if you only take what you need he shan't notice. There are also listed the few passwords I have still left in place on the computer. Yes, after all your fevered pleadings to snoop they have been granted.

Now the time has come to say what I know I must, goodbye. It makes me regret we never went on any of your camping trips or amusement parks but time was against us from the start. I will miss your curious habits, pacing, cursing and studying every feather you find, all will be remembered fondly. The last gift I left I hope you will keep and remember me with love too.

You will always be in my heart Akira

_ Jin_

_No eagle soars to high, as long as it is with her own wings_

Akira dropped the letter speechless. Her mouth gapped like a fish and she trembled, unable to comprehend what was happening. She reread and a strangle sob escaped her despite the tremendous efforts to act indifferent, but she just didn't know what to do.

Part of her snapped that she didn't care, she never cared. It was a little crush and if he left he obviously didn't care as much as he said. That meant she didn't care either. Good riddance.

_He's gone!_ she moaned, grabbing a hunk of her hair and pulling on it.

She picked up the envelope and shook it, not hard in quivering hands. Then, more pieces of paper fluttered out.

One was the instructions of the account of the _friend, _the second was a list of passwords, and the third was a check.

Akira shoved aside that sentimental part of her and focused. If she wanted to find Jin, she had to be logical and not some pitiful little girl lost in the supermarket. He had left at least three hours ago so there was no point in trying the airport, what next.

Her gaze strayed to the pieces of paper. The computer! She snatched them up, crumpling them a little and ducked into Jin's study, leaping into the chair and flicking the on switch so it hummed to life, though not quick enough for her liking. After passing numerous passwords, she was in.

Even in a time like this, Akira couldn't help but roll her eyes at Jin's lack of imagination. A plane blue screen, with one folder in the upper left corner labelled, 'Documents'. Akira frowned, unsure how to go about the search, but she was positive he would have cleaned out most of it before leaving. Opening the folder, she was right, empty.

Akira growled as she searched the windows pop up, nothing! She wished she was some computer genius but she only knew the basics. Chewing her lip, she opened Outlook Express, his email, and a popup immediately requested a password. She glanced at the second piece of paper, she had used them all up so she tried them all again. Nothing. Now she guessed and five minutes later there still wasn't anything to show for it.

Akira smashed the keyboard with her fist, and a happy 'ping!' sounded before letting her in.

"Ha! Never thought of dumb luck, and Dumb Luck is my middle name!" she smirked triumphantly at the screen. Even when her world was going crazy she still managed to be childish.

There were only two emails, one from a girl and she was thanking Jin, but that was all her meagre Japanese could decipher. She glowered at it possessively for a moment.

The second was only an attachment. As the window appeared, she gave a squawk as a bloated face took up the screen. Akira swore as it was also written with Japanese characters and she had to rely on pasty memories of the torture that was her L.O.T.E classes in highschool. After minutes of tedium, she had it deciphered as a fighting tournament, with a date, a prize and where it was held.

_Iron Fist,_ she mused. _Mishima__ Empire…… where have I seen them before….._

Her eyes strayed to the pieces of the paper and skimmed till she found what she wanted. There on the page explaining have to access the 'friends' account. _Held in respects of Heihatchi Mishima for the purpose of Mishima Zaibatsu._

She read it through carefully and crunched it into a ball when it held nothing useful. Realising what she had done, she fished it out of the waste paper basket and slid it safely into a draw. This venture would more then likely fail so she would need funds to fall back on.

Akira ground her teeth and played with her fringe to the point of tearing clumps of hair from her scalp. She desperately needed information and all she had was a fighting tournament with a crusty old man glaring at her. She glared back, moving the mouse in aimless circles around his head like a blowfly.

Out of the blue, she double clicked on the internet icon and typed Iron Fist Tournament, near Heihatchi Mishima, near Mishima Empire in the search box. The speedy modem loaded it with eight or nine viable sites. She clicked on the first one claiming, THE IRON FIST TOURNAMENT'S! I, II, III and IV, THE LEGACY CONTINUES!

She scrolled through the pages, and found so many startling discoveries her mind rebelled. The first tournament dated back more then 25 years ago with two main fighters, Heihatchi and his son, Kazuya. After a bitter struggle, Kazuya won and hurled his mysterious father into the volcano.

Some years later, another tournament was held, this time by the new leader of the Mishima, Kazuya. By some bizarre circumstances, Heihatchi returned from the dead to take the stage. This time Kazama fell to the fate, Heihatchi should have and was thrown into the depths of the same volcano, but not before meeting another competitor, Jun Kazama.

Rumours were they fell in love and after Iron Fist II, Jun disappeared into the forest from whence she came. 15 years later, she vanished with many of the world martial artists, but her son emerged onto centre stage, a master in his own right. Heihatchi cherished his grandson, or so it seemed, until the final of Iron Fist III when he was 18. He lost to his grandson and in a fit of rage, unable to admit defeat, he pulled a pistol and killed him, three years ago……

Among the links were biographies of each of the competitors who ever competed. Serious competitors received invitations, the rest turned up on his island to fill up the other places to make sixty four competitors in all. It didn't say how they were chosen but it seemed that these were merely showboats. Heihatchi made a fortune broadcasting the tournament.

Akira's eyes lay on one competitor in particular, her heart skipping.

The grandson.

Her mind reeled. He seemed young, boyish, innocent, a nervous smile for the camera.

_Jin……_.

Her eyes bulged, standing abruptly and shoving the roller chair flying across the room to clatter against the wall. She had spent the past three years with the world martial arts master, and a dead man.

_What began three blissful years ago on a night of horror, pain and betrayal….._

"Yep," Akira muttered in a pensive voice, cracking despite herself. "Getting shot by your grandfather would certainly fit those criteria."

The realization finally sunk in, like jamming the last piece of the puzzle in even though it didn't fit.

Jin had gone to challenge Heihatchi, and more then likely kill him at IRON FIST IV.

Akira pulled up the poster again, staring blankly. She could let him do this, or at least not alone. Akira had to calm down, sit down and think this through.

She needed something to eat……

_Another belated chapter. In all honest I had completely forgotten about submitting here. I'll also be submitting new chapters to the site, akiraslightning so pop round in a few days._

**Ice Phoenix: **You are once again my favourite reviewer and in line for thanks. You're so dedicated to this fiction, I like to make an offer to you. If you care to email me for it, I'd love to repay you for it.

** TheNextSentinel: ** Thankyou for your praise and more shall come! I hope you've enjoyed your reading so far

** Skylight Angel:** I shall keep up the writing.


	7. Mother of the Guilt Trip

**When Lightning Strikes Twice  
****Part 7  
**_Mother of the Guiltrip_

"Last time I ever fly Third Class!" Akira fumed, despite it being the first time she had ever been in any class. It was not the flying fancy free feeling she had anticipated it to be. Children screamed and ran down the aisles, parents yelled after them and the food! Yuk! And she didn't care that she was flying first class, free alcohol was her god given right! Jin said it tainted the soul but a drop or two never hurt anyone. She had needed something to numb her frazzled nerves but the attendant had smiled snidely at her and said, "I'll see what I can do."

Akira was insulted! _No-oh,_ she wasn't asking a favour! She could understand the woman saying that if she had asked, "Could you try making your makeup look a little bit more realistic?"

So here she sat on the plastic seats of some anonymous Tokyo airport. It wasn't too busy but enough to make her feel nervous. She felt like a little girl playing dressups, tugging down a new blouse she had bought that kept inching upwards. She cursed today's fashion and their lack of modesty.

"Tah!" she sniffed haughtily, watching an old gentleman napping opposite her behind a magazine. "What am I doing here?"

The plane to Japan had been delayed by almost an hour. Jin, the poor bugger, chose Ansett with the flight that was supposed o leave that morning. It had been cancelled indefinitely and by those bizarre coincidences that could only be called a twist of fate, the two had ended up on the same flight.

Akira sighed, she had to be on a small runway early tomorrow, so she guessed she should find a place near by. She didn't need anything plush but in the end made the same mistake by choosing a seedy hotel. It was cramped, its single mattress was harder than the floorboards and the bathroom seemed non existent.

"Fool me once," Akira sighed with melancholy as she shut the door behind her, sweeping her gaze across the tiny room in less than a second.

Showering had been another test of willpower. She was first pelted with freezing droplets before the hot water eventually kicked in with a grizzily moan from the pipes. It was scalding and she tangled herself in the shower curtains as she had leapt to escape it. The water then evened out and she soaped herself up, only to have the water shut off completely.

Hissing angrily, she stepped out, carefully avoiding the drain and reluctantly wiping herself down a yellowy towel. The bathmat was a healthhazard waiting to happen. It made a very organic _fwap_ sound when she kicked it out of the way.

Finally she sat down on the bed with her good clothes folded neatly behind her. Comfortable back in her old, crumpled T-shirt and shorts, she lifted out Jin's package.

She hadn't touched it since stuffing it in the overnight bag and so she prayed it wasn't fragile. Sitting it on her lap she neatly slitted each piece of stickytape from the brown butchers paper and twine. Jin could be nostalgically old fashioned, just like his prissy speaking with perfectly round vowels, but it was like having a piece of him there with her. Slowly a piece of clothe was visible, and when she pulled back the last fold, she gasped.

Standing up she held the _gi_ to her chest. She had never had one. Sure, she had a nifty little Muay Thai boxing shorts and shirt, but it was hardly professional. It looked like something you used to patronise children. This, this was beautiful.

It was Japanese influenced, white with sky blue trim with a large blue bow secured to the waist band at the back. The waist band really was a waist band, propping up her breasts and covering her stomach. Once the gi crossed itself it reached her knees. It was light and would allow the full stretch she was accustomed too. There was also a ribbon that would secure her hair, shinwarmers, sandals and a pair of gloves with a long ribbon stitched to each knuckle. Pulling one on, she weaved her hand back and forth watching them ripple and trail in the dull light of the room's bulb after it with delight. The perfect distraction!

"Jin you lil' legend!' she whooped, but muttered inwardly_, I'm still going to turn you into a bloody smear._

She marvel at it, folding it reverently away and digging around for her English to Japanese dictionary she brought to brush up as well as a box of muesli bars she had stored. The second bag was crammed with every morsal in the pantry she could fit.

_Heck, it would only go mouldy in there anyway,_ she reasoned, though she knew very well it was pure gluttony.

Lucky for her, all she needed was a bit of revision and she remembered enough to suffice at least until she found Jin.

_If your find the bugger,_ she corrected herself, before settling down to sleep on her rock hard bed.

An icy wind whipped around Akira and she drew her jacket closer, cursing under her breath for not remembering that it was winter in the northern hemisphere. She also suspected it was the Australian climate in her bones, used to the soaring temperatures Queensland was famed for.

She grumbled in the shadows of a bleak grey dawn and took a vicious bite of the last muesli bar. Her nocturnal instincts hadn't been dulled by jetlag and had woke at her usual time. She had paced the room, recited Japanese and ate her food stores. Finally nearing dawn she pushed the room key through the door slot and stole silently into the private runway, easily eluding the guards that patrolled the parameter. They moved at a lazy walk, and their chattering covered any noises she happened to make.

They had opened the gates fifteen minutes ago and found the young girl inside fourteen minutes ago. Satisfied that she was in the right place, she scaled a large, heavily snowed under tree and sat in for a long wait for the other competitors in the tournament. Being high made her feel safe, and she knew that even when they were searching people rarely looked above their own height.

Akira looked at the last bite remorsefully before popping it in and chewed thoughtfully, watching the shadows lengthening across the asphalt.

Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow pass between two hangers at one end of the runway. The fact that it intended to be so stealthy was the reason it caught her eye. Akira recognised the figure immediately.

_Jin!_ her heart sang with a tinge of smugness.

If Akira had missed the first figure, there was no way to avoid the second. A slim female in a hot pink party dress took Jin's hand and passed through the light into a tiny courtyard between the hangers. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. With a sharp curse word, she shimmied artfully down the trunk and moved down the fence line so not to draw attention. The agonisingly slow process chaffed her but she could see more people arriving.

She clenched her teeth tightly to stop herself from jumping into clear view and scream at him. Instead, she drew a stiff breath and ducked behind a dumpster. She glimpsing them between the crack of it and the wall. Both spoke quickly in low voices that Akira couldn't make out. She strained her ears and only caught a snatch here and there. Time passed and it seemed nothing more then the meeting of old friends. She played with her fingers and recited the alphabet, peering through the crack impatiently.

Suppressing a loud sigh, she got up and was ready to slip away silently when actions spoke louder then words. Jin placed both hands on her waist, stepping in closer and leaning over the Asian girl preparing to sweep his hood back.

Akira stared, shocked. Slowly She felt white-hot fury swell inside her, and in a graceful catlike leap, she landed on the dumpster with a ringing clang. She didn't care if she was heard, she wanted to be heard!

Jin reacted like lightning, only seeing a figure swathed in shadow and drew into a fighting stance, his friend doing likewise. Akira grinned mentally, they should be afraid!

"Bring it on Jin, cos I'm ready to beat you into a bloody smear!" she snarled, letting the rage flow into her voice. She felt a fierce satisfaction as his expression melted into one of utter bewilderment. "What's wrong Jinnyboy? Didn't expect to see me? Didn't want me to find your little girlfriend?" Akira leapt off the dumpster and advanced towards her. She could see the girl clearly now, Chinese, a little older then herself maybe, but no lines of worry etched across her face.

"Akira, you have the wrong idea," Jin tried to sooth, but she rushed on.

"Now, I don't care that you left me to see an old mate, fine, but the fact that you left not telling me. What were those words? Pain, horror, and betrayal? You had me thing… arg! I don't know what! So what the heck do I do? I packed up, left a nice, well ordered life, thinking you were in a situation of life and death. When I do bloody well find you, you're not in any danger, you're here touching little Miss Life-of-the-Party!"

Akira had spoke in a low venomous, each word short and sharp. It had affected Jin as she had hoped. He looked as if the words had been a physical blow, as if she had stabbed him.

She flicked a poisonous glare in the girl's direction. _Brat probably doesn't understand English, _she thought contemptuously.

Jin gently took her shoulder and guided her to the side, shooting a pleading look at… Shou-Yu was it? She had been entered in the Iron Fist III. The girl now carried a wounded air as Jin leaned into her ear. Akira simpered at her.

"Akira," Jin chided and then said with difficulty, "Akira, I'm sorry if back in Australia you got the idea that I- That we- that…."

Akira froze. Hadn't she? Hadn't she hoped? Hadn't she played out scenarios in her head? Hadn't she pretended she had walled that off in some part of her subconscious as a girlish crush when she wanted to keep on fantasising?

Akira went on pretending. She pretended the hurt was actually shock and disgust.

"Gah!" Akira squawked, stumbling backwards. "Wha? Gawd no! I was just….. stressed. You left me with a freak'n letter, Jin!" Now she could play the guilt card and let sadness flow into her voice. "Wasn't I worth a goodbye?"

"Akira, I'm sorry," he said quietly. Guilt didn't begin to describe it! She was masterful! She began smoothing out her clothes and taming her wild hair back into its customary ponytail with her head down, like she was trying to hide tears. She was even convincing herself. "I was just afraid this would happen, you would follow me. This isn't a place for children."

"I'm the same age as you were when you entered the tournament," she shot back and Jin's eyes widened.

"You know who I am?"

Akira nodded solemnly. "No worries, Jin," she sighed heavily with a thin smile. When Jin finally swept back his hood it was his turn to laugh. Her eyes became saucers and her jaw sagged. Her hand reached out and let it hang in the air, her fingers opening and closing.

Standing opposite her was the elder brother she never had. She just couldn't understand how the refined young Japanese man had turned into a scruffy Thai teenager. His spiky black hair that always managed to sweep up and back was now had dark brown highlights and smoothed around his ears, even the rebellious strands that resisted his every attempt had been curled into place with a generous amount of gel.

His eyes were different too, contact lenses had been used to match her own muddy brown.

The thing that made her smile most was that living in one of the sunniest places on earth he had an amazingly even tan, bronzed to perfection from the training sessions running up and down the beach in the exhausting sand. It had happened so gradually she hadn't noticed. The only thing different was their bone structure, but that could be easily played off.

"You. You're me!" she said with a laugh of delight. She circled him looking up and down and giving him a playful shove from behind.

"What better disguise?" he smiled mischievously. "I couldn't very well depend on my hoods, could I?"

Akira laughed giddily and threw her arms around Jin's neck, squeezing tightly. Shou-Yu watched sullenly while Akira smiled smugly. If she wanted Jin, she would have to deal with her too.

"Well are you going to introduce us?" Akira unfurled herself from around Jin and slunk back as the Chinese girl's glower became perky.

"Of course," Jin presented, oblivious to the girl's competitive exchange. "Xiaoyu this is Akira, she helped me when I went into hiding. Akira this is Xiaoyu. She and I went to school together. We were very close." Akira forced her smile not to falter. Xiaoyu bowed low and Akira tried to mimic, with little grace.

"We better nick off, this is starting to look suss," Akira said boredly with her hands on her hips, her eyes still glittering.

"Suss?" Xaioyu asked to Akira's astonishment. Of course! The two went to the same school, and Jin's education had been exquisite. Akira grumbled to herself but it was a minor problem.

"Yeah suss, as in two young, sweet and innocent girls, one in a very loud party dress, in a sleazy little hanger with some man in a hood. Suss."

"Oh," she piped in that same ingratingly cute tone.

"Now I'm gonna jump the fence and leave you two to finish what you were talking about. When you're done, look like you've been doing something, no one will ask questions then. "

Akira offered a sly grin, watching them both blush before climbing silently back onto the dumpster and using the guttering to haul herself onto the roof of the shed. Of course she didn't have to do what she had in mind, but a little showing off couldn't hurt. "Oh, and Jinnyboy, your sitting next to me on the plane and your going to explain everything," she added with a your-not-getting-out-if-it-even-if-you-had-a-heart-attack tone she used all too often.

She studied the barbing at the top of the fence. They had built it taller on this side, so she couldn't just climb over it. She pondered her predicament as the sun inched further over the horizon. Finally, the tree on the other side suggested escape. She motioned to the other two to stepped back and moved to the end of the roof furthers from the fence.

Akira swallowed hard; hoping the peak of the roof would hide most of her from the competitors waiting also for the plane and judged how high she would have to go. There were any number of ways this could screw up and she had no wish to think about them.

Still, all was fair in love and war, and she was already behind.

Again taking a deep breath, she hyped herself up, and launched forward. She dashed headlong, her sandshoes striving to grip the corrugated iron and trying to pick up every bit of speed she could. The drop off loomed before her. She forced herself to keep going. She stretched her stride using used the edge and pushed off into the air with all her strength!

Tucking up her legs, hoping against hope she'd clear the barbed wire.

Momentum fell away!

She cursed as she saw there was no chance, unless...

In a desperate attempt to save herself, she flung out a leg.

It landed and balanced on the taunt wire, a long sickle piercing her shoe and stabbing into her foot. Akira whimpered but she thrust herself towards the tree. She uttered a strangled howl as she felt the steel slide through her tissue and come loose, tears stinging her eyes. She reached out one of her spindly arms for a lone snow laden branch.

_You can do it,_ she chanted. _You have to do it!_

The branch was within her grasp; she was going to make it!

In a cruel twist of fate, an icy gust of wind cut through Akira's body like a knife, and carried the branch with it.

_Noooooooo_! She mouthed, clawing the air helplessly, and plummeted into the snowy ground.

A plume of ice crystal erupted, and all was still.

* * *

(Chuckles) I'll level with you guys. I'd given this story up for the ghost, but have decided to at least post everything I've already written. I fully accept Ki's Suish nature, which was why I decided that it would be my own little indulgence. However a lovely email convinced me to continue posting online. Thanks for coming back if you do, even if T5DR is already on the way! Yay! 

**Nekomaru: **(laughs) Hardly, while I'm not an fanatic shipper of Jin and Xiaoyu, I think they make the most sense as will you have seen in this chapter and once that will follow. I'm glad you liked it so much to fav it, and to come back and read it again. Thankyou very much, it gave me a glow all over!

**AngelKougaeri: **Thankyou for your encouragement and compliments.

**IcePhoenix: **The one and only (grins). That little project I told you has been put on hiatus, but you're still my favourite reviewer. You rock, mate! Every review is full and uplifting. You actually give reasons for why you liked it which means a lot!

**Element6: **Thankyou, although I didn't fulfil your second wish. Still, I'm back

**TheNextSentinel: **Aww, another little warm bubble to swell my head. Thankyou. If you were anxious for that chapter, I grin deviously to see what you think of this one!

On yis all! You mean a lot to a self indulgent author.


End file.
